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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

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http://www.archive.org/details/daughteroftodaynOOduncrich 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 


A  SOCIAL  DEPARTURE: 

ITow  Orthodocia  and  I  Went  Round  the  World 
ly  Ourselves.  With  111  Illustrations  by  F.  II. 
TowNSEND.     12mo.     Paper,  75  cents ;   cloth, 

$1.75. 

"  Widely  read  and  praised  on  both  Bides  of  the  Atlantic 
and  Pacific,  with  scores  of  illustrations  which  fit  the  text  ex- 
actly, and  show  the  mind  of  artist  and  writer  in  unison."— 
JVew  York  Evening  Post. 

"  It  is  to  be  doubted  whether  another  book  can  be  found 
so  thoroughly  amusing  from  beginning  to  end.''— Boston 
Daily  Advertiser. 

"  A  brighter,  merrier,  more  entirely  charming  book  would 
be,  indeed,  diflacultto  find."— >^^.  Louis  Republic. 

AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON. 

With  80  Illustrations  by  F.  H.  Townsend. 
12mo.     Paper,  75  cents;  cloth,  $1.50. 

"  One  of  the  most  naive  and  entertaining  books  of  the 
season."— :V«??^  York  Observer. 

"  So  sprightly  a  book  as  this,  on  life  in  London  as  ob- 
served by  an  American,  has  never  before  been  written."— 
Philaddj)hia  BuUetin. 

THE  SIMPLE  ADVENTURES  OF  A 
MEMSAHIB. 

With  37  Illustrations  by  F.  H.  Townsend. 
12mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"Another  witty  and  delightful  'book.'"  —  Philadelphia 
Times. 

"It  is  like  traveling  without  leaving  one's  armchair  to 
read  it.  Miss  Duncan  has  the  descriptive  and  narrative  gift 
in  large  measure,  and  she  brin^  vividly  before  us  the  street 
scenes,  the  interiors,  the  bewilderinglv  queer  natives  the 
gayeties  of  the  English  colon  j.''~PhUadelphia  Telegraph. 

D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  Publishers,  New  York. 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY 


A  NOl/EL 


BY 

MRS.   EVERARD   COTES 

(SARA  JEANNETTE   DUNCAN) 

AUTHOR    OF    A    SOCIAL    DEPARTURE,    AN    AMERICAN    GIRL    IN    LONDON, 

THE    SIMPLE    ADVENTURES    OF   A    MEMSAHIB,    ETC. 


NEW    YORK 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1894 


Copyright,  1894, 
By  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY 


CHAPTER  I. 


Miss  Kimpsey  dropped  into  an  arm-chair  in  Mrs. 
Leslie  Bell's  drawing-room  and  crossed  her  small 
dusty  feet  before  her  while  she  waited  for  Mrs. 
Leslie  Bell.  Sitting  there,  thinking  a  little  of  how 
tired  she  was  and  a  great  deal  of  what  she  had 
come  to  say,  Miss  Kimpsey  enjoyed  a  sense  of  con- 
sideration that  came  through  the  ceiling  with  the 
muffled  sound  of  rapid  footsteps  in  the  chamber 
above.  Mrs.  Bell  would  be  "down  in  a  minute/' 
the  maid  had  said.  Miss  Kimpsey  was  inclined  to 
forgive  a  greater  delay,  with  this  evidence  of  haste- 
ful  preparation  going  on  overhead.  The  longer  she 
had  to  ponder  her  mission  the  better,  and  she  sat 
up  nervously  straight  pondering  it,  tracing  with  her 
parasol  a  sage-green  block  in  the  elderly  sesthet- 
icated  pattern  of  the  carpet. 

Miss  Kimpsey  was  thirW-five,  with  a  pale,  oblong 

961756 


2  A   DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

"little  f^6,  that*  looked  younger  under  its  softening 
;l  o  ^fhs^g.^^:  (j^\  im:^' '^^  across  the  forehead.  She 
was  a  buff-and-gray-colored  creature,  with  a  narrow 
square  chin  and  narrow  square  shoulders,  and  a 
flatness  and  straightness  about  her  everywhere  that 
gave  her  rather  the  effect  of  a  wedge,  to  which  the 
big  black  straw  hat  she  wore  tilted  a  little  on  one 
side  somehow  conduced.  Miss  Kimpsey  might  have 
figured  anywhere  as  a  representative  of  the  New 
"  England  feminine  surplus — there  was  a  distinct  sug- 
gestion of  character  under  her  unimportant  little 
features — and  her  profession  .was  proclaimed  in  her 
person,  apart  from  the  smudge  of  chalk  on  the  sleeve 
of  her  jacket.  She  had  been  born  and  brought  up 
'^  and  left  over  in  Illinois,  however,  in  the  town  of 
Sparta,  Illinois.  She  had  developed  her  conscience 
there,  and  no  doubt,  if  one  knew  it  well,  it  would 
show  peculiarities  of  local  expansion  directly  con- 
nected with  hot  corn-bread  for  breakfast,  as  opposed 
to  the  accredited  diet  of  legumes  upon  which  con- 
sciences arrive  at  such  successful  maturity  in  the 
East.  It  was,  at  aU  events,  a  conscience  in  excellent 
controlling  order.  It  directed  Miss  Kimpsey,  for 
example,  to  teach  three  times  a  week  in  the  boys' 
night-school  through  the  winter,  no  matter  how 
sharply  the  wind  blew  off  Lake  Michigan,  in  addi- 
tion to  her  daily  duties  at  the  High  School,  where 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  6 

for  ten  years  she  had  imparted  instruction  in  the 
^'English  branches/'  translating  Chaucer  into  the 
modern  dialect  of  Sparta,  Illinois,  for  the  benefit  of 
Miss  Elfrida  Bell,  among  others.  It  had  sent  her 
on  this  occasion  to  see  Mrs.  Leslie  Bell,  and  Miss 
Kimpsey  could  remember  circumstances  under  which 
she  had  obeyed  her  conscience  with  more  alacrity. 

"  It  isn't,"  said  Miss  Kimpsey,  with  internal  dis- 
couragement, "  as  if  I  knew  her  well." 

Miss  Kimpsey  did  not  know  Mrs.  Bell  at  all  well. 
Mrs.  Bell  was  president  of  the  Browning  Club,  and 
Miss  Kimpsey  was  a  member  -,  they  met,  too,  in  the 
social  jumble  of  fancy  fairs  in  aid  of  the  new 
church  organ;  they  had  a  bowing  acquaintance — 
that  is,  Mrs.  Bell  had.  Miss  Kimpsey's  part  of  it 
was  responsive,  and  she  always  gave  a  thought  to 
her  boots  and  her  gloves  when  she  met  Mrs.  BeU. 
It  was  not  that  the  Spartan  social  circle  which  Mrs. 
Bell  adorned  had  any  vulgar  prejudice  against  the 
fact  that  Miss  Kimpsey  earned  her  own  living — 
more  than  one  of  its  ornaments  had  done  the  same 
thing — and  Miss  Kimpsey's  relations  were  all  "in 
grain"  and  obviously  respectable.  It  was  simply 
that  none  of  the  Kimpseys,  prosperous  or  poor,  had 
ever  been  in  society  in  Sparta,  for  reasons  which 
Sparta  itself  would  probably  be  unable  to  define ; 
and  this  one  was  not  likely  to  be  thrust  among 


4  A   DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

tlie  elect  because  she  taught  school  and  enjoyed  life 
upon  a  scale  of  ethics. 

Mrs.  Bellas  drawing-room  was  a  slight  distraction 
to  Miss  Kimpsey^s  nervous  thoughts.  The  little 
school-teacher  had  never  been  in  it  before,  and  it 
impressed  her.  "  It's  just  what  you  would  expect 
her  parlor  to  be,"  she  said  to  herself,  looking  fur- 
tively round.  She  could  not  help  her  sense  of  im- 
propriety ;  she  had  always  been  taught  that  it  was 
very  bad  manners  to  observe  anything  in  another 
person's  house,  but  she  could  not  help  looking  either. 
She  longed  to  get  up  and  read  the  names  of  the 
books  behind  the  glass  doors  of  the  tall  bookcase 
at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  for  the  sake  of  the 
little  quiver  of  respectful  admiration  she  knew  they 
would  give  her;  but  she  did  not  dare  to  do  that. 
Her  eyes  went  from  the  bookcase  to  the  photo- 
gravure of  Dore's  ^^  Entry  into  Jerusalem,''  under 
which  three  Japanese  dolls  were  arranged  with 
charming  effect.  "  The  Reading  Magdalen  "  caught 
them  next,  a  colored  photograph,  and  then  a  Mag- 
dalen of  more  obscure  origin  in  much  blackened 
oils  and  a  very  deep  frame ;  then  still  another  Mag- 
dalen, more  modern,  in  monochrome.  In  fact,  the 
room  was  f  uU  of  Magdalens,  and  on  an  easel  in  the 
corner  stood  a  Mater  Dolorosa,  lifting  up  her  stream- 
ing eyes.     Granting  the  capacity  to  take  them  seri- 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  5 

onsly,  they  might  have  depressed  some  people,  but 
they  elevated  Miss  Kimpsey. 

She  was  equally  elevated  by  the  imitation  mllow 
pattern  plates  over  the  door,  and  the  painted  yel- 
low daffodils  on  the  panels,  and  the  orange-colored 
Eemie  des  Deux  Mondes  on  the  corner  of  the  table, 
and  the  absence  of  all  bows  or  draperies  from 
the  furniture.  Miss  Kimpsey's  own  parlor  was  ex- 
crescent with  bows  and  draperies.  ^^She  is  above 
them,"  thought  Miss  Kimpsey,  with  a  little  pang. 
The  room  was  so  dark  that  she  could  not  see  how 
old  the  Eevue  was ;  she  did  not  know  either  that 
it  was  always  there,  that  unexceptionable  Parisian 
periodical,  with  Dante  in  the  original  and  red 
leather.  Academy  Wofes,  and  the  Mneteenth  Century, 
all  helping  to  furnish  Mrs.  Leslie  Bell's  drawing- 
room  in  a  manner  in  accordance  with  her  tastes; 
but  if  she  had.  Miss  Kimpsey  would  have  been 
equally  impressed.  It  took  intellect  even  to  select 
these  things.  The  other  books.  Miss  Kimpsey  noticed 
by  the  numbers  labelled  on  their  backs,  were  most- 
ly from  the  circulating  library — ^' David  Grieve,^' 
^'  Cometh  up  as  a  Flower,"  ^^  The  Earthly  Paradise," 
Ruskin^s  ''Stones  of  Venice,"  Marie  Corelli's  ''Ro- 
mance of  Two  Worlds."  The  mantelpiece  was  ar- 
ranged in  geometrical  disorder,  but  it  had  a  gilt 
clock  under  a  glass  shade  precisely  in  the  middle. 


6  A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

When  the  gilt  clock  indicated,  in  a  mincing  way,  that 
Miss  Kimpsey  had  been  kept  waiting  fifteen  min- 
utes, Mrs.  BeU.  came  in.  She  had  fastened  her  last 
button  and  assumed  the  expression  appropriate  to 
Miss  Kimpsey  at  the  foot  of  the  stair.  She  was  a  tall, 
thin  woman,  with  no  color  and  rather  narrow  brown 
eyes  much  wrinkled  round  about,  and  a  forehead 
that  loomed  at  you,  and  grayish  hair  twisted  high 
into  a  knot  behind — a  knot  from  which  a  wispy  end 
almost  invariably  escaped.  When  she  smiled  her 
mouth  curved  downward,  showing  a  number  of 
large  even  white  teeth,  and  made  deep  hues  which 
suggested  various  things,  according  to  the  nature 
of  the  smile,  on  either  side  of  her  face.  As  a  rule 
one  might  take  them  to  mean  a  rather  deprecating 
acceptance  of  life  as  it  stands — they  seemed  in- 
tended for  that — and  then  Mrs.  Bell  would  express 
an  enthusiasm  and  contradict  them.  As  she  came 
through  the  door  under  the  ^'  Entry  into  Jerusalem," 
saying  that  she  really  must  apologize,  she  was  sure 
it  was  unpardonable  keeping  Miss  Kimpsey  waiting 
like  this,  the  lines  expressed  an  intention  of  being 
as  agreeable  as  possible  mthout  committing  herself 
to  return  Miss  Kimpsey^s  visit. 

^'Why,  no,  Mrs.  Bell,"  Miss  Kimpsey  said  ear- 
nestly, with  a  protesting  buff-and-gray  smile,  ^'I 
didn't  mind  waiting  a  particle — honestly  I  didn't. 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  7 

Besides,  I  presume  it^s  early  for  a  callj  but  I 
thought  I^d  drop  in  on  my  way  from  school."  Miss 
Kimpsey  was  determined  that  Mrs.  Bell  should  have 
every  excuse  that  charity  could  invent  for  her. 
She  sat  down  again,  and  agreed  with  Mrs.  Bell  that 
they  were  having  lovely  weather,  especially  when 
they  remembered  what  a  disagreeable  fall  it  had 
been  last  year;  certainly  this  October  had  been 
just  about  perfect.  The  ladies  used  these  superla- 
tives in  the  tone  of  mild  defiance  that  almost  any 
statement  of  fact  has  upon  feminine  lips  in  America. 
It  did  not  seem  to  matter  that  their  observations 
were  entirely  in  union. 

"I  thought  Pd  run  in — "  said  Miss  Kimpsey, 
screwing  herself  up  by  the  arm  of  her  chair. 

ayes?" 

"  And  speak  to  you  about  a  thing  Vve  been  think- 
ing a  good  deal  of,  Mrs.  Bell,  this  last  day  or  two. 
It's  about  Elfrida." 

Mrs.  Bell's  expression  became  judicial.  If  this  was 
a  complaint — and  she  was  not  accustomed  to  com- 
plaints of  Elfrida — she  would  be  careful  how  she 
took  it. 

^^  I  hope — "  she  began. 

^^  Oh,  you  needn't  worry,  Mrs.  Bell.  It's  nothing 
about  her  conduct,  and  it's  nothing  about  her  school 
work." 


8  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

"WeU,  that^s  a  relief,"  said  Mrs.  Bell,  as  if  she 
had  expected  it  would  be.  "  But  I  know  she's  bad 
at  figures.  The  child  can't  help  that,  though ;  she 
gets  it  from  me.  I  think  I  ought  to  ask  you  to  be 
lenient  with  her  on  that  account." 

^'I  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  mathematical 
branches,  Mrs.  Bell.  I  teach  only  English  to  the 
senior  classes.  But  I  haven't  heard  Mr.  Jackson 
complain  of  EKrida  at  all."  Feeling  that  she  could 
no  longer  keep  her  errand  at  arm's  length,  Miss 
Kimpsey  desperately  closed  with  it.  ^^  IVe  come — 
I  hope  you  won't  mind — Mrs.  Bell,  Elfrida  has  been 
quoting  Rousseau  in  her  compositions,  and  I  thought 
you'd  like  to  know." 

"  In  the  original  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Bell,  with  interest. 
^'I  didn't  think  her  French  was  advanced  enough 
for  that." 

"  No,  from  a  translation,"  Miss  Kimpsey  replied. 
"Her  sentence  ran:  'As  the  gifted  Jean  Jacques 
Eousseau  told  the  world  in  his  "  Confessions  '^ ' — I 
forget  the  rest.  That  was  the  part  that  struck  me 
most.  She  had  evidently  been  reading  the  works  of 
Eousseau." 

"  Very  likely.  Elfrida  has  her  own  subscription 
at  the  library,"  Mrs.  Bell  said  speculatively.  "It 
shows  a  taste  in  reading  beyond  her  years,  doesn't 
it.  Miss  Kimpsey  ?     The  child  is  only  fifteen." 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  9 

^'  Well,  Tve  never  read  Rousseau,"  the  littk  teacher 
stated  definitely.  '^  Isn't  he — atheistical,  Mrs.  Bell, 
and  improper  every  way  ? " 

Mrs.  Bell  raised  her  eyebrows  and  pushed  out  her 
lips  at  the  severity  of  this  ignorant  condemnation. 
"  He  was  a  genius,  Miss  Kimpsey — rather  I  should 
say  he  is^  for  genius  cannot  die.  He  is  much  thought 
of  in  France.  People  there  make  a  little  shrine  of 
the  house  he  occupied  with  Madame  Warens,  you 
know." 

^^  Oh !  "  returned  Miss  Kimpsey,  "  French  people." 

^'Yes.  The  French  are  peculiarly  happy  in  the 
way  they  sanctify  genius,"  said  Mrs.  Bell  vaguely, 
with  a  feeUng  that  she  was  wasting  a  really  valua- 
ble idea. 

"Well,  you'll  have  to  excuse  me,  Mrs.  Bell.  Pd 
always  heard  you  entertained  about  as  liberal  views 
as  there  were  going  on  any  subject,  but  I  didn't 
expect  they  embraced  Rousseau."  Miss  Kimpsey 
spoke  quite  meekly.  "I  know  we  live  in  an  age 
of  progress,  but  I  guess  I'm  not  as  progressive  as 
some." 

"Many  will  stay  behind,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Bell 
impartially,  "  but  many  more  will  advance." 

"  And  I  thought  maybe  Elfrida  had  been  reading 
that  author  without  your  knowledge  or  approval, 
and  that  perhaps  you'd  like  to  know." 


10  A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

^'I  neither  approve  nor  disapprove,"  said  Mrs. 
Bell,  poising  her  elbow  on  the  table,  her  chin  upon 
her  hand,  and  her  judgment,  as  it  were,  upon  her 
chin.  ^^I  think  her  mind  ought  to  develop  along 
the  lines  that  nature  intended;  I  think  nature  is 
i\dser  than  I  am" — there  was  an  effect  of  conde- 
scending explanation  here — ^'  and  I  don't  feel  justi- 
fied in  interfering.     I  may  be  wrong — " 

"  Oh  no  !  "  said  Miss  Kimpsey. 

^'But  Elfrida's  reading  has  always  been  very 
general.  She  has  a  remarkable  mind,  if  you  will 
excuse  my  saying  so;  it  devours  everything.  I 
can'fc  tell  you  tvhen  she  learned  to  read,  Miss  Kimp- 
sey— it  seemed  to  come  to  her.  She  has  often 
reminded  me  of  what  you  see  in  the  biographies 
of  distinguished  people  about  their  youth.  There 
are  really  a  great  many  points  of  similarity  some- 
times. I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  Elfrida  did  any- 
thing.    I  wish  I  had  had  her  opportunities !  " 

"She's  growing  ver}^  good-looking,"  remarked 
Miss  Kimpsey. 

"It's  an  interesting  face,"  Mrs.  Bell  returned. 
"  Here  is  her  last  photograph.  It's  full  of  soul,  I 
think.  She  posed  herself,"  Mrs.  Bell  added  uncon- 
sciously. 

It  was  a  cabinet  photograph  of  a  girl  whose  eyes 
looked  definitely  out  of  it,  dark,  large,  well  shaded. 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  11 

full  of  a  desire  to  be  beautiful  at  ofice  expressed 
and  fulfilled.  The  nose  was  a  trifle  heavily  blocked, 
but  the  mouth  had  sensitiveness  and  charm.  There 
was  a  heaviness  in  the  chin,  too,  but  the  free  spring- 
ing curve  of  the  neck  contradicted  that,  and  the 
symmetry  of  the  face  defied  analysis.  It  was  turned 
a  little  to  one  side,  wistfully ;  the  pose  and  the  ex- 
pression suited  each  other  perfectly. 

^'  Ftill  of  soul !  ^'  responded  Miss  Kimpsey.  ^^  She 
takes  awfully  well,  doesn't  she  ?  It  reminds  me — it 
reminds  me  of  pictures  Pve  seen  of  Rachel,  the  act- 
ress, really  it  does." 

"  Pm  afraid  Elfrida  has  no  talent  that  way."  Mrs. 
Bell's  accent  was  quite  one  of  regret. 

^'  She  seems  completely  wrapped  up  in  her  paint- 
ing just  now,"  said  Miss  Kimpsey,  with  her  eyes  still 
on  the  photogi-aph. 

^^Yesj  I  often  wonder  what  her  career  Avill  be, 
and  sometimes  it  comes  home  to  me  that  it  must  be 
art.  The  child  can't  help  it — she  gets  it  straight 
from  me.  But  there  were  no  art  classes  in  my  day." 
Mrs.  BeU's  tone  impHed  a  large  measure  of  what  the 
world  had  lost  in  consequence.  "Mr.  Bell  doesn't 
agree  with  me  about  Elfrida's  being  predestined  for 
art,"  she  went  on,  smiling ;  "  his  whole  idea  is  that 
she'll  marry  like  other  people." 

"  Well,  if  she  goes  on  improving  in  looks  at  the 


12  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

rate  slie  has,  you^ll  find  it  difficult  to  prevent,  I  should 
think,  Mrs.  Bell."  Miss  Kimpsey  began  to  wonder 
at  her  own  temerity  in  staying  so  long.  ^^  Should 
you  be  opposed  to  it  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  shouldn't  be  opposed  to  it  exactly.  I  won't 
say  I  don't  expect  it.  I  think  she  might  do  better, 
myself ;  but  I  dare  say  matrimony  will  swallow  her 
up  as  it  does  everybody — almost  everybody — else." 
A  finer  ear  than  Miss  Kimpsey's  might  have  heard 
in  this  that  to  overcome  Mrs.  Bell's  objections  matri- 
mony must  take  a  very  attractive  form  indeed,  and 
that  she  had  no  doubt  it  would.  Elfrida's  instruct- 
ress did  not  hear  it  j  she  might  have  been  less  over- 
come with  the  quality  of  these  latter-day  sentiments 
if  she  had.  Little  Miss  Kimpsey,  whom  matrimony 
had  not  swallowed  up,  had  risen  to  go.  ^'  Oh,  I'm 
sure  the  most  gifted  couldn't  do  hetter!^^  she  said, 
hardily,  in  departing,  with  a  blush  that  turned  her 
from  buff-and-gray  to  brick  color. 

Mrs.  Bell  picked  up  the  Bevue  after  she  had  gone, 
and  read  three  lines  of  a  paper  on  the  climate  and 
the  soil  of  Poland.  Then  she  laid  it  down  again  at 
the  same  angle  with  the  corner  of  the  table  which  it 
had  described  before. 

"  Rousseau ! "  she  said  aloud  to  herself.  "  C^est  tin 
peu  fort  mats — "  and  paused,  probably  for  maturer 
reflection  upon  the  end  of  her  sentence. 


CHAPTER  II. 

"  Leslie."  said  Mrs.  Bell,  making  the  unnecessary 
feminine  twist  to  get  a  view  of  her  back  hair  from 
the  mirror  with  a  hand-glass,  ^'  aren't  you  delighted  f 
Try  to  be  candid  with  yourself  now,  and  own  that 
she's  "tremendously  improved." 

It  would  not  have  occurred  to  anybody  but  Mrs. 
Bell  to  ask  Mr.  Leslie  Bell  to  be  candid  with  him- 
self. Candor  was  written  in  large  letters  all  over 
Mr.  Leslie  BelPs  plain,  broad  countenance.  So  was 
a  certain  obstinacy,  not  of  will,  but  of  adherence  to 
prescribed  principles,  which  might  very  well  have 
been  the  result  of  living  for  twenty  years  with  Mrs. 
LesUe  Bell.  Otherwise  he  was  a  thick-set  man  with 
an  inteUigent  bald  head,  a  fresh-colored  complexion, 
and  a  well-trimmed  gray  beard.  Mr.  Leslie  Bell 
looked  at  life  with  logic,  or  thought  he  did,  and  took 
it  with  ease,  in  a  plain  way.  He  was  known  to  be  a 
good  man  of  business,  with  a  leaning  toward  gen- 
erosity, and  much  independence  of  opinion.  It  was 
not  a  custom  among  election  candidates  to  ask  Les- 
lie BeU  for  his  vote.  It  was  pretty  well  understood 
2  13 


14  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

that  nothing  would  influence  it  except  his  "  views," 
and  that  none  of  the  ordinary  considerations  in  use 
with  refra<3tory  electors  would  influence  his  views. 
He  was  a  man  of  large,  undemonstrative  affections, 
and  it  was  a  matter  of  private  regret  with  him  that 
there  should  have  been  only  one  child,  and  that  a 
daughter,  to  bestow  them  upon.  His  simplicity  of 
nature  was  utterly  beyond  the  understanding  of  his 
wife,  who  had  been  building  one  elaborate  theory 
after  another  about  him  ever  since  they  had  been 
married,  conducting  herself  in  mysterious  accord- 
ance, but  had  arrived  accurately  only  at  the  fact 
that  he  preferred  two  lumps  of  sugar  in  his  tea. 

Mr.  Bell  did  not  allow  his  attention  to  be  taken 
from  the  intricacies  of  his  toilet  by  his  wife^s  ques- 
tion unto  she  repeated  it. 

^ ^Aren't  you  charmed  with  Elfrida,  Leshe  ?  Hasn't 
Philadelphia  improved  her  beyond  your  wildest 
dreams  ? " 

Mr.  Bell  reflected.  "You  know  I  don't  think 
Elfrida  has  ever  been  as  pretty  as  she  was  when  she 
was  five  years  old,  Maggie." 

"Do  say  Margaret,"  interposed  Mrs.  Bell  plaint- 
ively. She  had  been  suffering  from  this  for  twenty 
years. 

"  It's  of  no  use,  my  dear ;  I  never  remember  un- 
less there's  company  present.    I  was  going  to  say 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  15 

Elfrida  had  certainly  grown.  She's  got  to  her  full 
size  now,  I  should  think,  and  she  dwarfs  you,  moth — 
Margaret.'^ 

Mrs.  Bell  looked  at  him  with  tragic  eyes.  "Do 
you  see  no  more  in  her  than  that  f  "  she  exclaimed. 

"She  looks  well,  I  admit  she  looks  well.  She 
seems  to  have  got  a  kind  of  style  in  Philadelphia." 

''Style!'' 

"I  don't  mean  fashionable  style — a  style  of  her 
own ;  and  according  to  the  professors,  neither  the 
time  nor  the  money  has  been  wasted.  But  she's 
been  a  long  year  away,  Maggie.  It's  been  consider- 
ably duU  without  her  for  you  and  me.  I  hope  she 
won't  take  it  into  her  head  to  want  to  leave  home 
again." 

"  If  it  should  be  necessary  to  her  plan  of  life — " 

"  It  won't  be  necessary.  She's  nineteen  now,  and 
I'd  like  to  see  her  settle  down  here  in  Sparta,  and 
the  sooner  the  better.  Her  painting  will  be  an  in- 
terest for  her  all  her  life,  and  if  ever  she  should  be 
badly  off  she  can  teach.  That  was  my  idea  in  giv- 
ing her  the  training." 

"Settle  down  in  Sparta!''  Mrs.  Bell  repeated, 
with  a  significant  curve  of  her  superior  lip.  "  Why, 
who  is  there — " 

"  Lots  of  people,  though  it  isn't  for  me  to  name 
them,  nor  for  you  either,  my  dear.     But  speaking 


16  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

generally,  there  isn't  a  town  of  its  size  in  the  Union 
with  a  finer  crop  of  go-ahead  young  men  in  it  than 
Sparta.'' 

Mrs.  Bell  was  leaning  against  the  inside  shutter 
of  their  bedroom  window,  looking  out,  while  she 
waited  for  her  husband.  As  she  looked,  one  of 
Sparta's  go-ahead  young  men,  glanciug  up  as  he 
passed  in  the  street  below  and  seeing  her  there  be- 
hind the  panes,  raised  his  hat. 

"  Heavens,  no ! "  said  Mrs.  BeU.  ^'  You  don't  un- 
derstand, Leslie." 

"Perhaps  not,"  Mr.  BeU  returned.  "We  must 
get  that  packing-case  opened  after  dinner.  I'm 
anxious  to  see  the  pictures."  Mr.  Bell  put  the  fin- 
ishing touches  to  his  little  finger-nail  and  briskly 
pocketed  his  penknife.  "Shall  we  go  downstairs 
now  ? "  he  suggested.  "  Fix  your  brooch,  mother ; 
it's  just  on  the  drop." 

Elfrida  Bell  had  been  a  long  year  away — a  year 
that  seemed  longer  to  her  than  it  possibly  could  to 
anybody  in  Sparta,  as  she  privately  reflected  when 
her  father  made  this  observation  for  the  second 
and  the  third  time.  Sparta  accounted  for  its  days 
chiefly  in  ledgers,  the  girl  thought ;  there  was  a  ris- 
ing and  a  going  down  of  the  sun,  a  little  eating  and 
drinking  and  speedy  sleeping,  a  little  discussion  of 
the  newspapers.     Sparta  got  over  its  days  by  strides 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  17 

and  stretches,  and  the  strides  and  stretches  seemed 
afterward  to  have  been  made  over  gaps  and  gulfs 
full  of  emptiness.  The  year  divided  itself  and  got 
its  painted  leaves,  its  white  silences,  its  rounding 
buds,  and  its  warm  fragrances  from  the  winds  of 
heaven,  and  so  there  were  four  seasons  in  Sparta, 
and  people  talked  of  an  early  spring  or  a  late  fall ; 
but  Elfrida  told  herself  that  time  had  no  other  divi- 
sion, and  the  days  no  other  color.  Elfrida  seemed  to 
be  unaware  of  the  opening  of  the  new  South  Ward 
Episcopal  Methodist  Church.  She  overlooked  the 
municipal  elections  too,  the  plan  for  overhauling 
the  town  waterworks,  and  the  reorganization  of  the 
public  library.  She  even  forgot  the  Browning  Club. 
Whereas — though  Elfrida  would  never  have  said 
^^  whereas" — the  days  in  Philadelphia  had  been  long 
and  full.  She  had  often  lived  a  week  in  one  of 
them,  and  there  had  been  hours  that  stretched  them- 
selves over  an  infinity  of  life  and  feeling,  as  Elfrida 
saw  it,  looking  back.  In  reality,  her  experience  had 
been  usual  enough  and  poor  enough  5  but  it  had  fed 
her  in  a  way,  and  she  enriched  it  with  her  imagi- 
nation, and  thought,  with  keen  and  sincere  pity, 
that  she  had  been  starved  till  then.  The  question 
that  preoccupied  her  when  she  moved  out  of  the 
Philadelphia  station  in  the  Chicago  train  was  that  of 
future  sustenance.    It  was  under  the  surface  of  her 


18  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

thougMs  when  she  kissed  her  father  and  mother 
and  was  made  welcome  home  5  it  raised  a  mute 
remonstrance  against  Mr.  Bellas  cheerful  prophecy 
that  she  would  be  content  to  stay  in  Sparta  for  a 
while  now,  and  get  to  know  the  young  society  5  it 
neutralized  the  pleasure  of  the  triumphs  in  the 
packing-box.  Besides,  their  real  delight  had  all 
been  exhaled  at  the  students^  exhibition  in  Phila- 
delphia, when  Philadelphia  looked  at  them.  The 
opinion  of  Sparta,  Elfrida  thought,  was  not  a  mat- 
ter for  anxiety.  Sparta  would  be  pleased  in  ad- 
vance. 

Elfrida  allowed  one  extenuating  point  in  her  in- 
dictment of  Sparta:  the  place  had  produced  her 
as  she  was  at  eighteen,  when  they  sent  her  to  Phila- 
delphia. This  was  only  half  conscious — she  was 
able  to  formulate  it  later — ^but  it  influenced  her  sin- 
cere and  vigorous  disdain  of  the  town  correctively, 
and  we  may  believe  that  it  operated  to  except  her 
father  and  mother  from  the  general  wreck  of  her 
opinion  to  a  greater  extent  than  any  more  ordinary 
feeling  did.  It  was  not  in  the  least  a  sentiment 
of  affection  for  her  birthplace;  if  she  could  have 
chosen  she  would  very  much  have  preferred  to  be 
born  somewhere  else.  It  was  simply  an  important 
qualifying  circumstance.  Her  actual  and  her  ideal 
self,  her  most  mysterious  and  interesting  self,  had 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  19 

originated  in  the  air  and  the  opportunities  of  Sparta. 
Sparta  had  even  done  her  the  service  of  showing  her 
that  she  was  unusual,  by  contrast,  and  Elfrida  felt 
that  she  ought  to  be  thankful  to  somebody  or  some- 
thing for  being  as  unusual  as  she  was.  She  had 
had  a  comfortable,  spoiled  feeling  of  gratitude  for 
it  before  she  went  to  Philadelphia,  which  had  de- 
veloped in  the  meantime  into  a  shudder  at  the  mere 
thought  of  what  it  meant  to  be  an  ordinary  person. 
^^  I  could  bear  not  to  be  charming,"  said  she  some- 
times to  her  Philadelphia  looking-glass,  '*  but  I  could 
not  bear  not  to  be  clever." 

She  said  ^'  clever,"  but  she  meant  more  than  that. 
Elfrida  Bell  believed  that  something  other  than 
cleverness  entered  into  her  personal  equation.  She 
looked  sometimes  into  her  very  soul  to  see  what, 
but  the  writing  there  was  in  strange  characters  that 
faded  under  her  eyes,  leaving  her  uncomprehending 
but  tranced.  Meanwhile  art  spoke  to  her  from  all 
sides,  finding  her  responsive  and  more  responsive. 
Some  books,  some  pictures,  some  music  brought 
her  a  curious  exalted  sense  of  double  life.  She 
could  not  talk  about  it  at  all,  but  she  could  slip 
out  into  the  wet  streets  on  a  gusty  October  even- 
ing, and  walk  miles  exulting  in  it,  and  in  the  light 
on  the  puddles  and  in  the  rain  on  her  face,  coming 
back,  it  must  be  admitted,  with  red  cheeks  and  an 


20  A  DAUGHTER  OP  TO-DAY. 

excellent  appetite.  It  led  her  into  strange  absent 
silences  and  ways  of  liking  to  be  alone,  which 
gratified  her  mother  and  worried  her  father.  When 
Elfrida  burned  the  gas  of  Sparta  late  in  her  own 
room,  it  was  always  her  father  who  saw  the  light 
under  the  door,  and  who  came  and  knocked  and 
told  her  that  it  was  after  eleven,  and  high  time 
she  was  in  bed.  Mrs.  Bell  usually  protested.  "  How 
can  the  child  reach  any  true  development,"  she 
asked,  "if  you  interfere  with  her  like  this?"  to 
which  Mr.  Bell  usually  replied  that  whatever  she 
developed,  he  didn't  want  it  to  be  headaches  and 
hysteria.  Elfrida  invariably  answered,  "  Yes,  papa," 
with  complete  docility  5  but  it  must  be  said  that 
Mr.  Bell  generally  knocked  in  vain,  and  the  more 
perfect  the  submission  of  the  daughterly  reply 
the  later  the  gas  would  be  apt  to  burn.  Elfrida 
was  always  agreeable  to  her  father.  So  far  as  she 
thought  of  it  she  was  appreciatively  fond  of  him, 
but  the  relation  pleased  her,  it  was  one  that  could 
be  so  charmingly  sustained.  For  already  out  of  the 
other  world  she  walked  in — the  world  of  strange  kin- 
ships and  insights  and  recognitions,  where  she  saw 
truth  afar  off  and  worshipped,  and  as  often  met 
falsehood  in  the  way  and  turned  raptly  to  follow — 
the  girl  had  drawn  a  vague  and  many-shaped  idea 
of  artistic  living  which  embraced  the  filial  attitude 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  21 

among  others  less  explicable.  It  gave  her  pleasure 
to  do  certain  things  in  certain  ways.  She  stood 
and  sat  and  spoke,  and  even  thought,  at  times,  with 
a  subtle  approval  and  enjoyment  of  her  manner  of 
doing  it.  It  was  not  actual  artistic  achievement, 
but  it  was  the  sort  of  thing  that  entered  her  imagi- 
nation as  such  achievement's  natural  corollary.  Her 
self -consciousness  was  a  supreme  fact  of  her  person- 
ality ;  it  began  earlier  than  any  date  she  could  re- 
member, and  it  was  a  channel  of  the  most  unfailing 
and  intense  satisfaction  to  her  from  many  sources. 
One  was  her  beauty,  for  she  had  developed  an  elu- 
sive beauty  that  served  her  moods.  Wlien  she  was 
dull  she  called  herself  ugly — unfairly,  though  her  face 
lost  tremendously  in  value  then — and  her  general 
dislike  of  dullness  and  ugliness  became  particular 
and  acute  in  connection  with  herself.  It  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  she  took  a  keen  enjoying  pleasure 
in  the  flush  upon  her  own  cheek  and  the  light  in  her 
own  eyes  no  less  than  in  the  inward  sparkle  that 
provoked  it — an  honest  delight,  she  would  not  have 
minded  confessing  it.  Her  height,  her  symmetry, 
her  perfect  abounding  health  were  separate  joys  to 
her ;  she  found  absorbing  and  critical  interest  in  the 
very  figment  of  her  being.  It  was  entirely  prepos- 
terous that  a  young  woman  should  kneel  at  an  attic 
window  in  a  flood  of  spring  moonlight,  with  her 


22  A  DAUGHTER  OP  TO-DAY. 

hair  about  the  shoulders  of  her  nightgown,  repeat- 
ing Rossetti  to  the  wakeful  budding  garden,  espe- 
cially as  it  was  for  herseK  she  did  it — ^nobody  else 
saw  her.  She  knelt  there  partly  because  of  a  vague 
desire  to  taste  the  essence  of  the  spring  and  the 
garden  and  Rossetti  at  once,  and  partly  because  she 
felt  the  romance  of  the  foolish  situation.  She  knew 
of  the  shadow  her  hair  made  around  her  throat,  and 
that  her  eyes  were  glorious  in  the  moonlight.  Go- 
ing back  to  bed,  she  paused  before  the  looking-glass 
and  wafted  a  kiss,  as  she  blew  the  candle  out,  to  the 
face  she  saw  there.  It  was  such  a  pretty  face,  and 
so  full  of  the  spirit  of  Rossetti  and  the  moonlight, 
that  she  couldn't  help  it.  Then  she  slept,  dream- 
lessly,  comfortably,  and  late;  and  in  the  morning 
she  had  never  taken  cold. 

Philadelphia  had  pointed  and  sharpened  all  this. 
The  girl's  training  there  had  vitalized  her  brooding 
dreams  of  producing  what  she  worshipped,  had 
given  shape  and  direction  to  her  informal  efforts, 
had  concentrated  them  upon  charcoal  and  canvas. 
There  was  an  enthusiasm  for  work  in  the  Institute, 
a  canonization  of  names,  a  blazing  desire  to  imitate 
that  tried  hard  to  fan  itself  into  originahty.  Elfrida 
kindled  at  once,  and  felt  that  her  soul  had  lodged 
forever  in  her  fingers,  that  art  had  found  for  her, 
once  for  all,  a  sacred  embodiment.     She  spoke  with 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  23 

subdued  feeling  of  its  other  shapes;  she  was  at 
all  points  sympathetic ;  but  she  was  no  longer  at  all 
points  desirous.  Her  aim  was  taken.  She  would 
not  write  novels  or  compose  operas;  she  would 
paint.  There  was  some  renunciation  in  it  and  some 
humility.  The  day  she  came  home,  looking  over  a 
dainty  sandalwood  box  full  of  early  verses,  twice 
locked  against  her  mothei^'s  eye,  ^'  The  desire  of  the 
moth  for  the  star,'^  she  said  to  herself;  but  she 
did  not  tear  them  up.   That  would  have  been  brutal. 

Elfrida  wanted  to  put  off  opening  the  case  that 
held  her  year's  work  until  next  day.  She  quailed 
somewhat  in  anticipation  of  her  parents'  criticisms 
as  a  matter  of  fact;  she  would  hp.ve  preferred  to 
postpone  paiTying  them.  She  acknowledged  this  to 
herself  with  a  little  irritation  that  it  should  be  so, 
but  when  her  father  insisted,  chisel  in  hand,  she 
went  down  on  her  knees  with  charming  willingness 
to  help  him.  Mrs.  Bell  took  a  seat  on  the  sofa  and 
clasped  her  hands  with  the  expression  of  one  who 
prepares  for  prayer. 

One  by  one  Mr.  Leslie  Bell  drew  out  his  daughtei^s 
studies  and  copies,  cutting  their  strings,  clearing 
them  of  their  paper  wrappings,  and  standing  each 
separately  against  the  wall  in  his  crisp,  business-like 
way.  They  were  all  mounted  and  framed;  they 
stood  very  well  against  the  wall ;  but  Mr.  Bell,  who 


24  A  DAUGHTER  OP  TO-DAY. 

began  hopefully,  was  presently  obliged  to  try  to 
hide  his  disappointment,  the  row  was  so  persistently 
black  and  white.  Mrs.  Bell,  on  the  sofa,  had  the 
look  of  postponing  her  devotions. 

^^  You  seem  to  have  done  a  great  many  of  these — 
etchings,^'  said  Mr.  Bell. 

"Oh,  papa!  They're  not  etchings,  they're  sub- 
jects in  charcoal — from  casts  and  things." 

"  They  do  you  credit — Pve  no  doubt  they  do  you 
credit.  They're  very  nicely  drawn,"  returned  her 
father,  "but  they're  a  good  deal  alike.  We  won't 
be  able  to  hang  more  than  two  of  them  in  the  same 
room.  Was  that  what  they  gave  you  the  medal 
for?" 

Mr.  Bell  indicated  a  drawing  of  Psyche.  The 
lines  were  delicate,  expressive,  and  false;  the  re- 
lief was  imperfect,  yet  the  feehng  was  undeniably 
caught.  As  a  drawing  it  was  incorrect  enough,  but 
its  charm  lay  in  a  subtle  spiritual  something  that 
had  worked  into  it  from  the  girl's  own  fingers,  and 
made  the  beautiful  empty  classic  face  modernly 
interesting.  In  view  of  its  inaccuracy  the  com- 
mittee had  been  guilty  of  a  most  irregular  proceed- 
ing in  recognizing  it  with  a  medal;  but  in  a  very 
young  art  school  this  might  be  condoned. 

"It's  a  perfectly  lovely  thing,"  interposed  Mrs. 
BeU  from  the  sofa.     "  I'm  sure  it  deserves  one." 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  25 

Elfrida  said  nothing.  The  study  was  ticketed,  it 
had  obviously  won  a  medal. 

Mr.  Bell  looked  at  it  critically.  "Yes,  it^s  cer- 
tainly well  done.  In  spite  of  the  frame — I  wouldn't 
give  ten  cents  for  the  frame — the  effect  is  fine.  We 
must  find  a  good  light  for  that.  Oh,  now  we  come 
to  the  oil-paintings.  We  both  presumed  you  would 
do  weU  at  the  oil-paintings ;  and  for  my  part,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Bell  definitely,  "  I  like  them  best.  There's 
more  variety  in  them."  He  was  holding  at  arm's- 
length,  as  he  spoke,  an  oblong  scrap  of  filmy  blue 
sky  and  marshy  green  fields  in  a  preposterously 
wide,  flat,  duU  gold  frame,  and  looking  at  it  in  a 
puzzled  way.  Presently  he  reversed  it  and  looked 
again. 

"  No,  papa,"  Elfrida  said,  "  you  had  it  right  side 
up  before."  She  was  biting  her  lip,  and  struggling 
with  a  desire  to  pile  them  all  back  into  the  box  and 
shut  the  lid  and  stamp  on  it. 

"  That's  exquisite  !  "  murmured  Mrs.  BeU,  when 
Mr.  BeU  had  righted  it  again. 

"  It's  one  of  the  worst,"  said  Elfrida  briefly. 

Mr.  BeU  looked  reUeved.  "  Since  that's  your  own 
opinion,  Elfrida,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  mind  saying  that 
I  don't  care  much  about  it  either.  It  looks  as  if 
you'd  got  tired  of  it  before  you  finished  it." 

"Does  it r'EKrida  said. 


26  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

"  Now  tMs  is  a  much  better  thing,  in  my  opinion/ 
her  father  went  on,  standing  the  picture  of  an  old 
woman  behind  an  apple-stall  along  the  wall  with  the 
rest.  "  I  don't  pretend  to  be  a  judge,  but  I  know 
what  I  like,  and  I  like  that.     It  explains  itself." 

"  It's  a  lovely  bit  of  color,"  remarked  Mrs.  Bell. 

Elfrida  smiled.  "  Thank  you,  mamma,"  she  said, 
and  kissed  her. 

When  the  box  was  exhausted,  Mr.  Bell  walked  up 
and  down  for  a  few  minutes  in  front  of  the  row 
against  the  wall,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
reflecting,  while  Mrs.  Bell  discovered  new  beauties 
to  the  author  of  them. 

^' We'U  hang  this  lot  in  the  dining-room,"  he  said 
at  length,  "  and  those  black-and-whites  with  the  oak 
mountings  in  the  parlor.  They'll  go  best  with  the 
wall-paper  there." 

"  Yes,  papa." 

"  And  I  hope  you  won't  mind,  EKrida,"  he  added, 
^'  but  I've  promised  that  they  shall  have  one  of  your 
paintings  to  raffle  off  in  the  bazar  for  the  alterations 
in  the  Sunday-school  next  week." 

^^  Oh  no,  papa.     I  shall  be  delighted." 

Elfrida  was  sitting  beside  her  mother  on  the  sofa, 
and  at  the  close  of  this  proposition  Mr.  BeK  came 
and  sat  there  too.  There  was  a  silence  for  a  mo- 
ment while  they  all  three  confronted  the  line  of 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  27 

pictures  leaning  against  the  wall.  Then  Elfrida 
began  to  laugh,  and  she  went  on  laughing,  to  the 
astonishment  of  her  parents,  until  the  tears  came 
into  her  eyes.  She  stopped  as  suddenly,  kissed  her 
mother  and  father,  and  went  upstairs.  "  I'm  afraid 
youVe  hurt  her  feelings,  Leslie,"  said  Mrs.  Bell, 
when  she  had  well  gone. 

But  Elfrida's  feelings  had  not  been  hurt,  though 
one  might  say  that  the  evening  left  her  sense  of 
humor  rather  sore.  At  that  moment  she  was  dally- 
ing with  the  temptation  to  describe  the  whole  scene 
in  a  letter  to  a  valued  friend  in  Philadelphia,  who 
would  have  appreciated  it  with  mirth.  In  the  end 
she  did  not  write.  It  would  have  been  too  humili- 
ating. 


CHAPTER  III. 

"Pa5  maljparhleu!^^  Lucien  remarked,  with  pursed- 
out  lips,  running  his  fingers  through  his  shock  of 
coarse  hair,  and  reflectively  scratching  the  top  of 
his  big  head  as  he  stepped  closer  to  Nadie  Palic- 
sky^s  elbow,  where  she  stood  at  her  easel  in  his 
crowded  atelier.  The  girl  turned  and  looked  keenly 
into  his  face,  seeking  his  eyes,  which  were  on  her 
work  with  a  considering,  interested  look.  Satis- 
fied, she  sent  a  glance  of  joyous  triumph  at  a  some- 
what older  woman,  whose  place  was  next,  and  who 
was  listening  with  the  amiable  effacement  of  coun- 
tenance that  is  sometimes  a  more  or  less  successful 
disguise  for  chagrin.  On  this  occasion  it  seemed  to 
fail,  for  Mademoiselle  Palicsky  turned  her  attention 
to  Lucien  and  her  work  again  with  a  slight  raising  of 
the  eyebrows  and  a  slighter  sigh.  Her  face  assumed 
a  gentle  melancholy,  as  if  she  were  pained  at  the  ex- 
hibition of  a  weakness  of  her  sex ;  yet  it  was  unnec- 
essary to  be  an  acute  observer  to  read  there  the  hope 
that  Lucien^s  significant  phrase  had  not  by  any 
chance  escaped  her  neighbor. 

28 


A  DAUGHTER  OP  TO-DAY.  29 

"  The  drawing  of  the  neck,"  Lucien  went  on,  ^^  is 
excellently  brutal/'  Nadie  wished  he  would  speak  a 
little  louder,  but  Lucien  always  arranged  the  carry- 
ing power  of  his  voice  according  to  the  susceptibil- 
ities of  the  atelier.  He  thrust  his  hands  into  his 
pockets  and  still  stood  beside  her,  looking  at  her 
study  of  the  nude  model  who  posed  upon  a  table  in 
the  midst  of  the  students.  "  In  you,  mademoiselle," 
he  added  in  a  tone  yet  lower,  "  I  find  the  woman  and 
the  artist  divorced.  That  is  a  vast  advantage — an 
immense  source  of  power.  I  am  growing  more  cer- 
tain of  you  5  you  are  not  merely  cleverly  eccentric 
as  I  thought.  You  have  a  great  deal  that  no  one 
can  teach  you.  You  have  finished  that — I  wish  to 
take  it  downstairs  to  show  the  men.  It  will  not  be 
jeered  at,  I  promise  you." 

"  Cher  maitre  !    You  mean  it  ? " 
•   "  But  certainly ! " 

The  girl  handed  him  the  study  with  a  look  of 
almost  doglike  gratitude  in  her  narrow  gray  eyes. 
Lucien  had  never  said  so  much  to  her  before,  though 
the  whole  atelier  had  noticed  how  often  he  had  been 
coming  to  her  easel  lately,  and  had  disparaged  her  in 
comers  accordingly.  She  looked  at  the  tiny  silver 
watch  she  wore  in  a  leather  strap  on  her  left  wrist — 
he  had  spent  nearly  five  minutes  with  her  this  time, 
watching  her  work  and  talking  to  her,  in  itself  a 


30  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

triumph.  It  was  almost  four  o^clock,  and  the  winter 
daylight  was  going;  presently  they  would  aU  stop 
work.  Partly  for  the  pleasure  of  being  chaffed  and 
envied  and  complimented  in  the  anteroom  in  the 
general  washing  of  brushes,  and  partly  to  watch 
Lucien's  rapid  progress  among  the  remaining  easels, 
Mademoiselle  PaHcsky  deliberately  sat  down  in  a 
prematurely  vacant  chair,  slung  one  slender  little 
limb  over  the  other,  and  waited.  As  she  sat  there 
a  generous  thought  rose  above  her  exultation.  She 
hoped  everybody  else  in  the  ateher  had  guessed 
what  Lucien  was  saying  to  her  all  that  while,  and 
had  seen  him  carry  off  her  day^s  work,  but  not  the 
little  American.  The  little  American,  who  was  at 
least  thirteen  inches  taller  than  Mademoiselle  Palic- 
sky,  was  sufficiently  discouraged  already,  and  it  was 
pathetic,  in  view  of  almost  a  year  of  failure,  to  see 
how  she  clung  to  her  ghost  of  a  talent.  Besides,  the 
little  American  admired  Nadie  Palicsky,  her  friend, 
her  comrade,  quite  enough  already. 

Elfrida  had  heard,  nevertheless.  She  listened 
eagerly,  tensely,  as  she  always  did  when  Lucien 
opened  his  lips  in  her  neighborhood.  When  she 
saw  him  take  the  sketch  to  show  in  the  men's  atelier 
downstairs,  to  exhibit  to  that  horde  of  animals  be- 
low, whose  studies  and  sketches  and  compositions 
were  so  constantly  brought  up  for  the  stimulus 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  31 

and  instruction  of  Lucien's  women  students,  she 
grew  suddenly  so  white  that  the  girl  who  worked 
next  her,  a  straw-colored  Swede,  asked  her  if  she 
were  ill,  and  offered  her  a  little  green  bottle  of  salts 
of  lavender.  ^'It's  that  beast  of  a  calorifere,''  the 
Swede  said,  nodding  at  the  hideous  black  cylinder 
that  stood  near  them  j  '^  they  will  always  make  it  too 
hot.^^ 

Elfrida  waved  the  salts  back  hastily — Lucien  was 
coming  her  way.  She  worked  seated,  and  as  he 
seemed  on  the  point  of  passing  with  merely  a  casual 
glance  and  an  ambiguous  ^^  ff  m  ! "  she  started  up. 
The  movement  effectually  arrested  him,  uninten- 
tional though  it  seemed.  He  frowned  sHghtly,  thrust- 
ing his  hands  deep  into  his  coat-pockets,  and  looked 
again. 

"  We  must  find  a  better  place  for  you,  mademoi- 
selle 5  you  can  make  nothing  of  it  here  so  close  to 
the  model,  and  below  him  thus.^'  He  would  have 
gone  on,  but  in  spite  of  his  intention  to  avert  his 
eyes  he  caught  the  girPs  glance,  and  something  in- 
finitely appeahng  in  it  stayed  him  again.  "  Made- 
moiselle," he  said,  with  visible  irritation,  "there  is 
nothing  to  say  that  I  have  not  said  many  times 
already.  Your  drawing  is  still  ladyhke,  your  color 
is  still  prett}^,  and,  sapristi !  you  have  worked  with 
me  a  year!     Still,"  he  added,  recollecting  himseK 


^2  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

— Lucien  never  lost  a  student  by  over-candor — 
"considering  your  difficult  place  tlie  shoulders  are 
not  so  bad.     Continuez,  mademoiselle." 

The  girPs  eyes  were  fastened  immovably  upon  her 
work  as  she  sat  down  again,  painting  rapidly  in 
an  ineffectual,  meaningless  way,  with  the  merest 
touch  of  color  in  her  brush.  Her  face  glowed  with 
the  deepest  shame  that  had  ever  visited  her.  Lucien 
was  scolding  the  Swede  roundly;  she  had  disap- 
pointed him,  he  said.  Elfrida  felt  heavily  how 
impossible  it  was  that  slie  should  disappoint  him. 
And  they  had  all  heard — ^the  English  girl  in  the 
South  Kensington  gown,  the  rich  New  Yorker, 
Nadie^s  rival  the  Roumanian,  Nadie  herself;  and 
they  were  all,  except  the  last,  working  more  vigor- 
ously for  hearing.  Nadie  had  turned  her  head 
away,  and  so  far  as  the  back  of  a  neck  and  the  tips 
of  two  ears  could  express  oblivion  of  what  had 
passed,  it  might  have  been  gathered  from  hers.  But 
Elfrida  knew  better,  and  she  resented  the  pity  of 
the  pretence  more  than  if  she  had  met  Mademoi- 
selle Palicsky's  long  light  gray  eyes  full  of  derisive 
laughter. 

For  a  year  she  had  been  in  it  and  of  it,  that  in- 
toxicating life  of  the  Quartier  Latin :  so  much  in  it 
that  she  had  gladly  forgotten  any  former  one ;  so 
much  of  it  that  it  had  become  treason  to  believe  ex- 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  33 

istence  supportable  under  any  other  conditions.  It 
was  her  pride  that  she  had  felt  everything  from  the 
beginning ;  her  instinctive  apprehension  of  all  that 
is  to  be  apprehended  in  the  passionate,  fantastic, 
vivid  life  on  the  left  side  of  the  Seine  had  been  a 
conscious  joy  from  the  day  she  had  taken  her  tiny 
appartement  in  the  Rue  Porte  Royale,  and  bought 
her  colors  and  sketching-block  from  a  dwarf -like  little 
dealer  in  the  next  street,  who  assured  her  proudly 
that  he  supplied  Henner  and  Dagnan-Bouveret,  and 
moreover  knew  precisely  what  she  wanted  from  ex- 
perience. "  Moi  aussif  rnddemoiselUj  je  suis  artist !  " 
She  had  learned  nothing,  she  had  absorbed  every- 
thing. It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  entered  into 
her  inheritance,  and  that  in  the  possessions  that 
throng  the  Quartier  Latin  she  was  bom  to  be  rich. 
In  thinking  this  she  had  an  overpowering  reaUza- 
tion  of  the  poverty  of  Sparta,  so  convincing  that 
she  found  it  unnecessary  to  tell  herself  that  she 
would  never  go  back  there.  That  was  the  uncon- 
scious pivotal  supposition  in  everything  she  thought 
or  said  or  did.  After  the  first  bewildering  day  or 
two  when  the  exquisite  thriU  of  Paris  captured  her 
indefinitely,  she  felt  the  full  tide  of  her  life  turn 
and  flow  steadily  in  a  new  direction  with  a  delight 
of  revelation  and  an  ecstasy  of  promise  that  made 
nothing  in  its  sweep  of  every  emotion  that  had  not 


34  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

its  birth  and  growth  in  art,  and  forbade  the  mere 
consideration  of  anything  that  might  be  an  obsta- 
cle, as  if  it  were  a  sin.  She  entered  her  new  world 
with  proud  recognition  of  its  unwritten  laws,  its 
unsanctified  morale,  its  riotous  overflowing  ideals ; 
and  she  was  instant  in  gathering  that  to  see,  to 
comprehend  these  was  to  be  thrice  blessed,  as  not  to 
see,  not  to  comprehend  them  was  to  dwell  in  outer 
darkness  with  the  bourgeois,  and  the  ^'sandpaper" 
artists,  and  others  who  are  without  hope.  It  gave 
her  moments  of  pure  delight  to  reflect  how  httle 
"  the  people  '^  suspected  the  reahty  of  the  existence 
of  such  a  world  notwithstanding  all  they  read  and 
all  they  professed,  and  how  absolutely  exclusive  it 
was  in  the  very  nature  of  nature;  how  it  had  its 
own  language  untranslatable,  its  own  creed  unbe- 
lievable, its  own  customs  unfathomable  by  outsiders, 
and  yet  among  the  true-born  how  divinely  simple 
recognition  was.  Her  allegiance  had  the  loyalty  of 
every  fibre  of  her  being ;  her  scorn  of  the  world  she 
had  left  was  too  honest  to  permit  any  posing  in  that 
regard.  The  life  at  Sparta  assumed  the  colors  and 
very  much  the  significance  depicted  on  a  bit  of 
faded  tapestry  -,  when  she  thought  of  it,  it  was  to 
groan  that  so  many  of  her  young  impressionable 
years  had  been  wasted  there.  She  hoarded  her 
years,  now  that  every  day  and  every  hour  was  suf- 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  35 

fused  with  its  individual  pleasure  or  interest,  or  that 
keen  artistic  pain  which  also  had  its  value,  as  a 
sensation,  in  the  Quartier  Latin.  It  distressed  her 
to  think  that  she  was  almost  twenty-one. 

The  interminable  year  that  intervened  between 
Elfrida^s  return  from  Philadelphia  and  her  triumph 
in  the  matter  of  being  allowed  to  go  to  Paris  to 
study,  she  had  devoted  mainly  to  the  society  of  the 
Swiss  governess  in  the  Sparta  Seminary  for  young 
ladies — Methodist  Episcopal — with  the  successful 
object  of  getting  a  working  knowledge  of  French. 
There  had  been  a  certain  amount  of  "young  so- 
ciety^' too,  and  one  or  two  incipient  love-affairs, 
watched  with  anxious  interest  by  her  father  and 
with  a  harrowed  conscience  by  her  mother,  who 
knew  Elfrida^s  capacity  for  amusing  herself;  and 
unlimited  opportimities  had  occun^ed  for  the  tacit 
exhibition  of  her  superiority  to  Sparta,  of  which  she 
had  not  always  taken  advantage.  But  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  year  gathered  into  the  French  lessons ; 
it  was  by  virtue  of  these  that  the  time  had  a  place  in 
her  memory.  Mademoiselle  Joubert  supplemented 
her  instruction  mth  a  violent  affection,  a  great  deal 
of  her  society,  and  the  most  entertainingly  mod- 
ern of  the  French  novels,  which  Brentano  sent  her 
monthly  in  enticing  packets,  her  single  indulgence. 
So  that  after  the  first  confusion  of  a  multitude  of 


36  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

tongues  in  the  irrelevant  Parisian  key  Elf rida  found 
herself  reasonably  fluent  and  fairly  at  ease.  The 
illumined  jargon  of  the  atelier  staid  with  her  natu- 
rally ;  she  never  forgot  a  word  or  a  phrase,  and  in 
two  months  she  was  babbling  and  mocking  with 
the  rest. 

She  Hved  alone;  she  learned  readily  to  do  it 
on  eighty  francs  a  month,  and  her  appartement 
became  charming  in  three  weeks.  She  divined  what 
she  should  have  there,  and  she  managed  to  get  ex- 
traordinary bargains  in  mystery  and  history  out  of 
the  dealers  in  such  things,  so  cracked  and  so  rusty, 
so  moth-eaten  and  of  such  excellent  color,  that  the 
escape  of  the  combined  effect  from  hanaUte  was  a 
marvel.  She  had  a  short,  sharp  struggle  with  her 
American  taste  for  simple  elegance  in  dress,  and 
overthrew  it,  aiming,  with  some  success,  at  original- 
ity instead.  She  found  it  easy  in  Paris  to  invest  her 
striking  personality  in  a  distinctive  costume,  suffi- 
ciently becoming  and  sufficiently  odd,  of  which  a 
broad  soft  felt  hat,  which  made  a  dehghtf ul  brigand 
of  her,  and  a  Hungarian  cloak  formed  important 
features.  The  Hungarian  cloak  suited  her  so  ex- 
tremely well  that  artistic  considerations  compelled 
her  to  wear  it  occasionally,  I  fear,  when  other  people 
would  have  found  it  uncomfortably  warm.  In  noth- 
ing that  she  said  or  did  or  admired  or  condemned  was 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  37 

there  any  trace  of  the  commonplace,  except,  perhaps, 
the  desire  to  avoid  it ;  it  had  become  her  conviction 
that  she  owed  this  to  herself.  She  v/as  thoroughly 
popular  in  the  atelier,  her  petits  soupers  were  so  good, 
her  enthusiasms  so  generous,  her  drawing  so  bad. 
The  other  pupils  declared  that  she  had  a  head  divine- 
ment  tragique,  and  for  those  of  them  she  liked  she 
sometimes  posed,  filling  impressive  parts  in  their 
weekly  compositions.  They  all  knew  the  little  ap- 
partement  in  the  Rue  Porte  Royale,  more  or  less  well 
according  to  the  favor  with  which  they  were  received. 
Nadie  Palicsky  perhaps  knew  it  best — Nadie  Palic- 
sky  and  her  friend  Monsieur  Andre  Vambery,  who 
always  accompanied  her  when  she  came  to  Elfrida^s 
in  the  evening,  finding  it  impossible  to  allow  her  to 
be  out  alone  at  night,  which  Nadie  confessed  agree- 
able to  her  vanity,  but  a  bore. 

Elfrida  found  it  difficult  in  the  beginning  to  ad- 
mire the  friend.  He  was  too  small  for  dignity,  and 
Nadie's  inspired  comparison  of  his  long  black  hair 
to  "  serpents  noirs  "  left  her  unimpressed.  Moreover 
she  thought  she  detected  about  him  a  personal  odor 
which  was  neither  that  of  sanctity  nor  any  other 
abstraction.  It  took  time  and  conversation  and 
some  acquaintance  with  values  as  they  obtain  at  the 
ficole  des  Beaux  Arts,  and  the  knowledge  of  what 
it  meant  to  be  "  selling,"  to  lift  Monsieur  Vambery 


38  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

to  his  proper  place  in  her  regard.  After  that  she 
blushed  that  he  had  ever  held  any  other.  But  from 
the  first  Elfrida  had  been  conscious  of  a  kind  of 
pride  in  her  unshrinking  acceptance  of  the  situa- 
tion. She  and  Nadie  had  exchanged  a  pledge  of 
some  sort,  when  Mademoiselle  Palicsky  bethought 
herself  of  the  unconf essed  fact.  She  gave  Elfrida  a 
narrow  look,  and  then  leaned  back  in  her  low  chair 
and  bent  an  imperturbable  gaze  upon  the  slender 
spiral  of  blue  smoke  that  rose  from  the  end  of  her 
cigarette. 

^^  It  is  necessary  now  that  you  should  know,  petite 
— nobody  else  does,  Lucien  would  be  sure  to  make 
a  fuss,  but — I  have  a  lover,  and  we  have  decided 
about  maiTiage  that  it  is  ridiculous.  It  is  a  l)rave 
dme.  You  ought  to  know  him ;  but  if  it  makes  any 
difference — " 

Elfrida  reflected  afterward  with  satisfaction  that 
she  had  not  even  changed  color,  though  she  had 
found  the  communication  electric.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  there  had  been  something  dignified,  noble 
almost,  in  the  answer  she  had  made,  with  a  smile 
that  acknowledged  the  fact  that  the  world  had  scru- 
ples on  such  accounts  as  these : 

"  Cela  nicest  absolument  egdl ! '' 

So  far  as  the  life  went  it  was  perfect.  The  Quar- 
tier  spoke  and  her  soul  answered  it,  and  the  world 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  39 

had  notliing  to  compare  with  a  conversation  like 
that.  But  the  question  of  production^  of  achieve- 
ment, was  beginning  to  bring  her  moments  when 
she  had  a  terrible  sensation  that  the  temperature 
of  her  passion  was  chilled.  She  had  not  yet  seen 
despair,  but  she  had  now  and  then  lost  her  hold  of 
herself,  and  she  had  made  acquaintance  with  fear. 
There  had  been  no  vivid  realization  of  failure,  but  a 
problem  was  beginning  to  form  in  her  mind,  and 
with  it  a  distinct  terror  of  the  solution,  which  some- 
times found  a  shape  in  her  dreams.  In  waking,  vol- 
untary moments  she  would  see  her  problem  only  as 
an  unanswerable  enigma. 

Yet  in  the  beginning  she  had  felt  a  splendid  con- 
fidence. Her  appropriation  of  theory  had  been  so 
brilliant  and  so  rapid,  her  instructive  appreciation 
had  helped  itself  out  so  well  with  the  casual  formulas 
of  the  schools,  she  seemed  to  herself  to  have  an 
absolute  understanding  of  expression.  She  held 
her  social  place  among  the  others  by  her  power  of 
perception,  and  that,  with  the  completeness  of  her 
repudiation  of  the  bourgeois,  had  given  her  Nadie 
Palicsky,  whom  the  rest  found  difficult,  variable,  ^ 
unreasonable.  Elf  rida  was  certain  that  if  she  might 
only  talk  to  Lucien  she  could  persuade  him  of  a 
great  deal  about  her  talent  that  escaped  him — she 
was  sure  it  escaped  him — in  the  mere  examination 


40  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

of  her  work.  It  chafed  her  always  that  her  person- 
ality could  not  touch  the  master ;  that  she  must  day 
after  day  be  only  the  dumb,  submissive  pupil.  She 
felt  sometimes  that  there  were  things  she  might  say 
to  Lucien  which  would  be  interesting  and  valuable 
for  him  to  hear. 

Lucien  was  always  non-committal  for  the  first 
few  months.  Everybody  said  so,  and  it  was  natural 
enough.  Elfrida  set  her  teeth  against  his  silences, 
his  casual  looks  and  ambiguous  encouragements 
for  a  length  of  time  which  did  infinite  credit  to  her 
determination.  She  felt  herself  capable  of  an  eter- 
nity of  pain ;  she  was  proudly  conscious  of  a  will- 
ingness to  oppose  herself  to  innumerable  discour- 
agements— ^to  back  her  talent,  as  it  were,  against  all 
odds.  That  was  historic,  dignified,  to  be  expected ! 
But  in  the  inmost  privacy  of  her  soul  she  had  con- 
ceived the  character  of  the  obstacles  she  was  pre- 
pared to  face,  and  the  list  resolutely  excluded  any 
idea  that  it  might  not  be  worth  while.  Indifference 
and  contempt  cut  at  the  very  roots  of  her  pledges 
to  herseK.  As  she  sat  hstening  on  this  afternoon 
to  the  vivid  terms  of  Lucien's  disapproval  of  what 
the  Swede  had  done,  she  had  a  sharp  consciousness 
of  this  severance. 

She  had  nothing  to  say  to  any  one  in  the  gen- 
eral babble  of  the  anteroom,  and  nobody  noticed 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  41 

her  white  face  and  resolute  eyes  particularly — 
the  Americans  were  always  so  pale  and  so  exalte, 
Nadie  kept  away  from  her.  Elfrida  had  to  cross 
the  room  and  bring  her,  with  a  little  touch  of  angry 
assertion  upon  the  arm,  from  the  middle  of  the 
group  she  had  drawn  around  her,  on  purpose,  as  her 
friend  knew. 

"  I  want  you  to  dine  with  me — ^really  dine,^  she 
said,  and  her  voice  was  both  eager  and  repressed. 
"  We  will  go  to  Babaudin's — one  gets  an  excellent 
haricot  there — and  you  shall  have  that  little  white 
cheese  that  you  love.  Come !  I  want  you  particu- 
larly. I  will  even  make  him  bring  champagne — 
anything.'' 

Nadie  gave  her  a  quick  look  and  made  a  little 
theatrical  gesture  of  delight. 

"  Quel  lonheur ! ''  she  cried  for  the  benefit  of  the 
others  5  and  then  in  a  lower  tone :  "  But  not  Babau- 
din's, petite.  Andre  will  not  permit  Babaudin's; 
he  says  it  is  not  convenahle/^  and  she  threw  up  her 
eyes  with  mock  resignation.  "  Say  Papaud's.  They 
keep  their  feet  off  the  table  at  Papaud's — ^there  are 
fewer  of  those  Mtes  des  AnglaisP 

"Papaud's  is  cheaper,"  Elfi-ida  returned  darkly. 
"  The  few  Englishmen  who  dine  at  Babaudin's  be- 
have perfectly  well.  I  will  not  be  insulted  about 
the  cost.    I'll  be  answerable  to  Andre.    You  don't 


42  A   DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

lie  as  a  general  thing,  and  why  now  ?    I  can  afford 
it,  truly.     You  need  not  be  distressed." 

Mademoiselle  Palicsky  looked  into  the  girPs  tense 
face  for  an  instant,  and  laughed  a  gay  assent.  But 
to  herself  she  said,  as  she  finished  drying  her  brushes 
on  an  inconceivably  dirty  bit  of  cotton :  "  She  has 
found  herself  out,  she  has  come  to  the  tnith.  She 
has  discovered  that  it  is  not  in  her,  and  she  is  com- 
ing to  me  for  corroboration.  Well,  I  will  not  give 
it,  me !  It  is  extremely  disagreeable,  and  I  have  not 
the  courage.  Pourquoi  done!  I  will  send  her  to 
Monsieur  John  Kendal ;  she  may  make  him  respon- 
sible. He  will  break  her,  but  he  will  not  lie  to  her  5 
they  sacrifice  all  to  their  consciences,  those  English ! 
And  now,  you  good-natured  fool,  you  are  in  for  a 
devil  of  an  evening ! " 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"  Three  months  more,"  Elf rida  Bell  said  to  her- 
self next  morning,  in  the  act  of  boiling  an  egg  over 
a  tiny  kerosene  stove  in  the  cupboard  that  served 
her  as  a  kitchen,  "  and  I  will  put  it  to  every  test  I 
know.  Three  unflinching  months!  John  Kendal 
will  not  have  gone  back  to  England  by  that  time. 
I  shall  still  get  his  opinion.  If  he  is  only  as  encour- 
aging as  Nddie  was  last  night,  dear  thing !  I  almost 
forgave  her  for  being  so  much,  much  cleverer  than 
I  am.  Oh,  letters !  "  as  a  heavy  knock  repeated  itself 
upon  the  door  of  the  room  outside. 

There  was  only  one;  it  was  thrust  beneath  the 
door,  showing  a  white  triangle  to  her  expectancy  as 
she  ran  out  to  secure  it,  while  the  fourth  flight 
creaked  under  Madame  Vamousin  descending.  She 
picked  it  up  with  a  light  heart — she  was  young  and 
she  had  slept.  Yesterday's  strain  had  passed;  she 
was  ready  to  count  yesterday's  experience  among 
the  things  that  must  be  met.  Nadie  had  been  so 
sensible  about  it.  This  was  a  letter  from  home,  and 
the  American  mail  was  not  due  until  next  day.     In- 

43 


44  A   DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

side  there  would  be  news  of  a  little  pleasure  trip  to 
New  York,  which  her  father  and  mother  had  been 
planning  lately — Elfrida  constantly  urged  upon  her 
parents  the  necessity  of  amusing  themselves — and  a 
remittance.  The  remittance  would  be  more  than 
usually  welcome,  for  she  was  a  little  in  debt — a  mere 
trifle,  fifty  or  sixty  francs  5  but  Elfrida  hated  being 
in  debt.  She  tore  the  end  of  the  envelope  across 
with  absolute  satisfaction,  which  was  only  half 
chilled  when  she  opened  out  each  of  the  four  closely 
wi'itten  sheets  of  foreign  letter-paper  in  turn  and 
saw  that  the  usual  postal  order  was  not  there. 

Having  ascertained  this  however,  she  went  back  to 
her  egg ;  in  another  ten  seconds  it  would  haVe  been 
hard-boiled,  a  thing  she  detested.  There  was  the 
egg,  and  there  was  some  apricot- jam — the  egg  in  a 
slender-stemmed  Arabian  silver  cup,  the  jam  golden 
in  a  little  round  dish  of  wonderful  old  blue.  She 
set  it  forth,  with  the  milk-bread  and  the  butter  and 
the  coffee,  on  a  bit  of  much  mended  damask  w^ith  a 
pattern  of  rosebuds  and  a  coronet  in  one  comer. 
Her  breakfast  gave  her  several  sorts  of  pleasure. 

Half  an  hour  after  it  was  over  she  was  still  sitting 
with  the  letter  in  her  lap.  It  is  possible  to  imagine 
that  she  looked  ugly.  Her  dark  eyes  had  a  look  of 
persistence  in  spite  of  fear,  a  line  or  two  shot  up 
from  between  her  brows,  her  lips  were  pursed  a 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  45 

little  and  drawn  down  at  the  corners,  her  chin 
thrust  forward.  Her  face  and  her  attitude  helped 
each  other  to  express  the  distinctest  possible  nega- 
tive. Her  neck  had  an  obstinate  bend  j  she  leaned 
forward  clasping  her  knees,  for  the  moment  a  crea- 
ture of  rigid  straight  lines.  She  had  hardly  moved 
since  she  read  the  letter. 

She  was  sorry  to  learn  that  her  father  had  been 
unfortunate  in  business,  that  the  Illinois  Indubita- 
ble Insurance  Company  had  failed.  At  his  age  the 
blow  would  be  severe,  and  the  prospect,  after  a  hfe 
of  comparative  luxury,  of  subsisting  even  in  Sparta 
on  eight  hundred  dollars  a  year  could  not  be  an 
inviting  one  for  either  of  her  parents.  When  she 
thought  of  their  giving  up  the  white  brick  house  in 
Columbia  Avenue  and  going  to  live  in  Cox  Street, 
Elfrida  was  thoroughly  grieved.  She  felt  the  sin- 
cerest  gratitude,  however,  that  the  misfortune  had 
not  come  sooner,  before  she  had  learned  the  true  sig- 
nificance of  living,  while  yet  it  might  have  placed 
her  in  a  state  of  blind  irresolution  which  would  prob- 
ably have  lasted  indefinitely.  After  a  year  in  Paris 
she  was  able  to  make  up  her  mind,  and  this  she 
could  not  congratulate  herself  upon  sufficiently,  since 
a  decision  at  the  moment  was  of  such  vital  impor- 
tance. For  one  point  upon  which  Mrs.  Leslie^s  letter 
insisted,  regretfully  but  strongly,  was  that  the  next 


46  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

remittance,  wWcli  they  hoped  to  be  able  to  send  in 
a  week  or  two,  would  necessarily  be  the  last.  It 
would  be  as  large  as  they  could  make  it;  at  all 
events  it  would  amply  cover  her  passage  and  rail- 
way expenses  to  Sparta,  and  of  course  she  would 
sail  as  soon  as  it  reached  her.  It  was  an  elaborate 
letter,  written  in  phrases  which  Mrs.  Leslie  thought 
she  evolved,  but  probably  remembered  from  a  long 
and  comprehensive  coui'se  of  fiction  as  appropriate 
to  the  occasion,  and  Elfrida  read  between  the  lines 
with  some  impatience  how  largely  their  trouble  was 
softened  to  her  mother  by  the  consideration  that  it 
would  inevitably  bring  her  back  to  them.  ^'  We  can 
bear  it  well  if  we  bear  it  together,"  wrote  Mrs.  Bell. 
"You  have  always  been  our  brave  daughter,  and 
your  young  courage  will  be  invaluable  to  us  now. 
Your  talents  wiU  be  our  flowers  by  the  way-side.  We 
shall  take  the  keenest  possible  delight  in  watching 
them  expand,  as,  even  under  the  cloud  of  financial 
adversity,  we  know  they  will.'' 

"Dear  over-confident  parent,'*  Elfrida  reflected 
grimly  at  this  point,  "  I  must  yet  prove  that  I  have 
any." 

Along  with  the  situation  she  studied  elaborately 
the  third  page  of  the  Sparta  Sentinel.  When  it 
had  arrived,  months  before,  containing  the  best  part 
of  a  long  letter  describing  Paris,  which  she  had 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  47 

written  to  her  mother  in  the  first  freshness  of  her 
delighted  impressions,  she  had  glanced  over  it  with 
half -amused  annoyance  at  the  foolish  parental  pride 
that  suggested  printing  it.  She  was  already  too  re- 
mote from  the  life  of  Sparta  to  care  very  much  one 
way  or  another,  but  such  feeling  as  she  had  was  of 
that  sort.  And  the  compliments  from  the  minister, 
from  various  members  of  the  Browning  Club,  from 
the  editor  himself,  that  filtered  through  her  mother's 
letters  during  the  next  two  or  three  weeks,  made 
her  shrug  with  their  absolute  irrelevance  to  the  only 
praise  that  could  thrill  her  and  the  only  purpose 
she  held  dear.  Even  now,  when  the  printed  hues 
contained  the  significance  of  a  possible  resource, 
she  did  not  give  so  much  as  a  thought  to  the  flatter- 
ing opinion  of  Sparta  as  her  mother  had  conveyed  it 
to  her.  She  read  them  over  and  over,  relying  des- 
perately on  her  own  critical  sense  and  her  knowledge 
of  what  the  Paris  correspondent  of  the  Daily  Dial 
thought  of  her  chances  in  that  direction.  He,  Frank 
Parke,  had  told  her  once  that  if  her  brush  failed  she 
had  only  to  try  her  pen,  though  he  made  use  of  no 
such  commonplace  as  that.  He  said  it,  too,  at  the 
end  of  half  an  hour's  talk  with  her,  only  half  an  hour. 
Elfrida,  when  she  wished  to  be  exact  with  her  van- 
ity, told  herself  that  it  could  not  have  been  more 
than  twenty-five  minutes.     She  wished  for  particu- 


48  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

lar  reasons  to  be  exact  with  it  now,  and  she  did  not 
fail  to  give  proper  weight  to  the  fact  that  Frank 
Parke  had  never  seen  her  before  that  day.  The  Paris 
correspondent  of  the  Daily  Dial  was  well  enough 
known  to  be  of  the  monde,  and  rich  enough  to  be 
as  bourgeois  as  anybody.  Therefore  some  of  the 
people  who  knew  him  thought  it  odd  that  at  his  age 
this  gentleman  should  prefer  the  indelicacies  of  the 
Quartier  to  those  of  "tout  Paris,"  and  the  bad  ver- 
mouth and  cheap  cigars  of  the  Rue  Luxembourg 
to  the  pecuharly  excellent  quality  of  champagne 
with  which  the  president's  wife  made  her  social 
atonement  to  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain.  But  it 
was  so,  and  its  being  so  rendered  Frank  Parke's 
opinion  that  Miss  Bell  could  write  if  she  chose  to 
try,  not  only  supremely  valuable  to  her,  but  avail- 
able for  the  second  time  if  necessary,  which  was  per- 
haps more  important. 

There  would  be  a  little  more  money  from  Sparta, 
perhaps  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  It  would 
come  in  a  week,  and  after  that  there  would  be  none. 
But  a  supply  of  it,  however  modest,  must  be  ar- 
ranged somehow — there  were  the  "frais"  of  the 
atelier,  to  speak  of  nothing  else.  The  necessity  was 
irritatingly  absolute.  Elfrida  wished  that  her  scru- 
ples were  not  so  acute  about  arranging  it  by  writing 
for  the  press.     "  If  I  could  think  for  a  moment  that 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 


4t) 


I  had  any  right  to  it  as  a  means  of  expression ! " 
she  reflected.  "But  I  haven^t.  It  is  an  art  for 
others.  And  it  is  an  art,  as  sacred  as  mine.  I  have 
no  business  to  degrade  it  to  my  uses."  Her  mental 
position  when  she  went  to  see  Frank  Parke  was  a 
cynical  compromise  with  her  artistic  conscience,  of 
which  she  nevertheless  sincerely  regretted  the  ne- 
cessity. 

The  correspondent  of  the  Daily  Dial  had  a  club 
for  one  side  of  the  river  and  a  cafe  for  the  other. 
He  dined  oftenest  at  the  cafe,  and  Elfrida^s  card, 
with  "  urgent "  inscribed  in  pencil  on  it,  was  brought 
to  him  that  evening  as  he  was  finishing  his  coffee. 
She  had  no  difficulty  in  getting  it  taken  in.  Mr. 
Parke's  theory  was  that  a  newspaper  man  gained 
more  than  he  lost  by  accessibility.  He  came  out 
immediately,  furtively  returning  a  toothpick  to  his 
waistcoat  pocket — a  bald,  stout  gentleman  of  middle 
age,  dressed  in  loose  gray  clothes,  with  shrewd  eyes, 
a  nose  which  liis  benevolence  just  saved  from  being 
hawk-like,  a  bristling  white  mustache,  and  a  pink 
double  chin.  It  rather  pleased  Frank  Parke,  who 
was  born  in  Hammersmith,  to  be  so  constantly 
taken  for  an  American — presumably  a  New  Yorker. 

"Monsieur — "  began  Elfrida  a  little  formally. 
She  would  not  have  gone  on  in  French,  but  it  was 
her  way  to  use  this  form  with  the  men  she  knew  in 


5t) 


A   DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 


Paris,  irrespective  of  their  nationality,  just  as  she 
invariably  addressed  letters  which  were  to  be  deliv- 
ered in  Sparta,  Illinois,  "a  madame  Leslie  Bell, 
Avenue  Columbia,"  of  that  municipality. 

"  Miss  Elfrida,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you,"  he  in- 
terrupted her,  stretching  out  one  hand  and  looking 
at  his  watch  with  the  other.  "  I  am  fortunate  in  hav- 
ing fifteen  whole  minutes  to  put  at  your  disposal. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  I  have  an  appointment  with 
a  cabinet  minister,  who  would  rather  see  the  devil. 
So  I  must  be  punctual.  Shall  we  walk  a  bit  along 
these  dear  boulevards,  or  shall  I  get  a  fiacre  ?  No  ? 
You're  quite  right — Paris  was  made  for  eternal 
walking.     Now,  what  is  it,  my  dear  child?" 

Mr.  Parke  had  already  concluded  that  it  was 
money,  and  had  fixed  the  amount  he  would  lend. 
It  was  just  half  of  what  Mademoiselle  Knike,  of 
Paolo  Rossi's,  had  succeeded  in  extracting  from  him 
last  week.  He  liked  having  a  reputation  for  amia- 
bility among  the  ateliers,  but  he  must  not  let  it  cost 
too  much. 

Elfrida  felt  none  of  that  benumbing  shame  which 
sometimes  seizes  those  who  would  try  literature  con- 
fessing to  those,  who  have  succeeded  in  it,  and  the 
occasion  was  too  important  for  the  decorative  difli- 
dence  that  might  have  occurred  to  her  if  it  had  been 
trivial.     She  had  herself  well  gathered  togethei*,  and 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  51 

she  would  have  been  concise  and  direct  even  if  there 
had  been  more  than  fifteen  minutes. 

"  One  afternoon  last  September,  at  Nadie  Palic- 
sky's — there  is  no  chance  that  you  will  remember, 
but  I  assure  you  it  is  so — you  told  me  that  I  might, 
if  I  tried — write,  monsieur." 

The  concentration  of  her  pui'pose  in  her  voice 
made  itself  felt  where  Frank  Parke  kept  his  acuter 
perceptions,  and  put  them  at  her  service. 

"  I  remember  perfectly,"  he  said. 

^^Je  TrCen  felicite.  It  is  more  than  I  expected. 
Well,  circumstances  have  made  it  so  that  I  must 
either  write  or  scrub.  Scrubbing  spoils  one^s  hands, 
and  besides,  it  isn^t  sufficiently  remunerative.  So  I 
have  come  to  ask  you  whether  you  seriously  thought 
so,  or  whether  it  was  only  poHteness — blague — or 
whatt  I  know  it  is  horrible  of  me  to  insist  like 
this,  but  you  see  I  must."  Her  big  dark  eyes  looked 
at  him  without  a  shadow  of  appeal,  rather  as  if  he 
were  destiny  and  she  were  unafraid. 

"  Oh,  I  meant  it,"  he  returned  ponderingly.  "  You 
can  often  tell  by  the  way  people  talk  that  they 
would  write  well.  But  there  are  many  things  to  be 
considered,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  I  know — ^whether  one  has  any  real  right  to 
write,  anything  to  say  that  makes  it  worth  while. 
I'm  afraid  I  can't  find  that  I  have.     But  there  must 


52  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

be  scullery-maid's  work  in  literature — ^in  joui^nalism, 
isn't  there  ?  I  could  do  that,  I  thought.  After  all, 
it's  only  one's  own  art  that  one  need  keep  sacred." 
She  added  the  last  sentence  a  little  defiantly. 

But  the  correspondent  of  the  JDaily  Biol  was  not 
thinking  of  that  aspect  of  the  matter.  "  It's  not  a 
thing  you  can  jump  into,"  he  said  shortly.  "  Have 
you  written  anything,  anywhere,  for  the  press  be- 
fore?" 

"  Only  one  or  two  things  that  have  appeared  in 
the  local  paper  at  home.  They  were  more  or  less 
admired  by  the  people  there,  so  far  as  that  goes." 

"  Were  you  paid  for  them  ? " 

Elfrida  shook  her  head.  "I've  often  heard  the 
editor  say  he  paid  for  nothing  but  his  telegrams," 
she  said. 

"  There  it  is,  you  see." 

"  I  want  to  write  for  Baffini^s  Ghronicle,^^  EKrida 
said  quickly.  "  You  know  the  editor  of  Baffinij  of 
course,  Mr.  Parke.  You  know  everybody.  Will  you 
do  me  the  very  great  favor  to  tell  him  that  I  will  re- 
port society  functions  for  him  at  one  half  the  price 
he  is  accustomed  to  pay  for  such  writing,  and  do  it 
more  entertainingly  ? " 

Frank  Parke  smiled.  "You  are  courageous  in- 
deed. Miss  Elfrida.  That  is  done  by  a  woman  who 
is  invited  everywhere  in  her  proper  person,  and 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  53 

knows  ^  tout  Paris  ^  like  her  alphabet.  I  believe  she 
holds  stock  in  Baffini;  anyway,  they  would  double 
her  pay  rather  than  lose  her.  You  would  have  more 
chance  of  ousting  their  leader-writer." 

^^  I  should  be  sorry  to  oust  anybody,"  Elfrida  re- 
turned with  dignity. 

"  How  do  you  propose  to  help  it,  if  you  go  in  for 
doing  better  or  cheaper  what  somebody  else  has 
been  doing  before  ? " 

Miss  Bell  thought  for  a  minute,  and  demonstrated 
her  irresponsibility  with  a  little  shrug.  "  Then  I^m 
very  sorry,"  she  said.  "  But,  monsieur,  you  haven^t 
told  me  what  to  do." 

The  illuminator  of  European  poHtics  for  the  Daily 
Dial  wished  heartily  that  it  had  been  a  matter  of  two 
or  three  hundred  francs. 

^'  I'm  afraid  I — well,  I  don^t  see  how  I  can  give 
you  any  very  definite  advice.  The  situation  doesn't 
admit  of  it.  Miss  Bell.  But — ^have  you  given  up 
Lucien?" 

"  No.  It  is  only  that — that  I  must  earn  money  to 
pay  him." 

^^  Oh !     Home  supphes  stopped  ? " 

^^My  people  have  lost  all  their  money  except 
barely  enough  to  live  on.  I  can't  expect  another 
sou." 

"  That's  hard  Hues ! " 


54  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

"  rm  awfully  sorry  for  them.  But  it  isn't  enough, 
being  sorry,  you  know.  I  must  do  something.  I 
thought  I  might  write  for  Eaffini,  for — for  practice, 
you  know — the  articles  they  print  are  really  very 
bad — and  afterward  arrange  to  send  Paris  letters 
to  some  of  the  big  American  newspapers.  I  know 
a  woman  who  does  it.  I  assure  you  she  is  quite 
stupid.  And  she  is  paid — ^but  enormously !  "  Mr. 
Parke  repressed  his  inclination  to  smile. 

"  I  believe  that  sort  of  thing  over  there  is  veiy 
much  in  the  hands  of  the  syndicates — McClure  and 
those  fellows,"  he  said,  ^^  and  they  won't  look  at  you 
unless  you're  known.  I  don't  want  to  discourage 
you,  Miss  Bell,  but  it  would  take  you  at  least  a  year 
to  form  a  connection.  You  would  have  to  learn 
Paris  about  five  times  as  weU  as  you  fancy  you 
know  it  ali'cady,  and  then  you  would  require  a 
special  course  of  training  to  find  out  what  to  write 
about.  And  then,  remember,  you  would  .have  to 
compete  with  people  who  know  every  inch  of  the 
ground.  Now  if  I  can  be  of  any  assistance  to  you 
en  camarade,  you  know,  in  the  matter  of  your  passage 
home —  " 

"Thanks,"  Elfrida  interposed  quickly,  "I'm  not 
going  home.  If  I  can't  wi'ite  I  can  scrub,  as  I  said. 
I  must  find  out."  She  put  out  her  hand.  "  I  am 
sure  there  are  not  many  of  those  fifteen  minutes 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  00 

left,"  she  said,  smiling  and  quite  undismayed.  ^^  I 
have  to  thank  you  very  sincerely  for — for  sticking 
to  the  opinion  you  expressed  when  it  was  only  a 
matter  of  theory.  As  soon  as  I  justify  it  in  practice 
ril  let  you  know." 

The  correspondent  of  the  Daily  Dial  hesitated, 
looked  at  his  watch  and  hesitated  again.  ^^  There's 
plenty  of  time,"  he  fibbed,  frowning  over  the  prob- 
lem of  what  might  be  done. 

"  Oh  no !  "  EKrida  said.  "  You  are  veiy  kind,  but 
there  can't  be.  You  will  be  very  late,  and  perhaps 
his  Excellency  will  have  given  the  audience  to  the 
devil  instead — or  to  Monsieur  de  Pommitz."  Her 
eyes  expressed  perfect  indifference.  Frank  Parke 
laughed  outright.  De  Pommitz  was  his  rival  for 
every  political  development,  and  shone  dangerously 
in  the  telegraphic  columns  of  the  London  World, 

"  De  Pommitz  isn't  in  it  this  time,"  he  said.  "  I'll 
tell  you  what  I  might  do.  Miss  Elf rida.  How  long 
have  you  got  for  this — experiment  ? " 

"  Less  than  a  week." 

"  Well,  go  home  and  write  me  an  article — some- 
thing locally  descriptive.  Make  it  as  bright  as  you 
can,  and  take  a  familiar  subject.  Let  me  have  it  in 
three  days,  and  I'll  see  if  I  can  get  it  into  Eaffini 
for  you.  Of  course,  you  know,  I  can't  promise  that 
they'll  look  at  it." 


56  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

"  You  are  very  good,"  Elf  rida  returned  hastily,  see- 
ing his  real  anxiety  to  be  off.  "  Something  locally 
descriptive.  I've  often  thought  the  atelier  would 
make  a  good  subject.'' 

"  Capital,  capital !  Only  be  very  careful  about  per- 
sonalities and  so  forth.  Baffini  hates  giving  offence. 
Good-bye!  Here  you,  cocker!  Boulevard  Hauss- 
mann ! " 


CHAPTER  V. 

John  Kendal  had  only  one  theory  that  was  not 
received  with  respect  by  the  men  at  Lucien's.  They 
quoted  it  as  often  as  other  things  he  said,  but 
always  in  a  spirit  of  derision,  while  Kendal's  ideas 
as  a  rule  got  themselves  discussed  seriously,  now 
and  then  furiously.  This  young  man  had  been 
working  in  the  atelier  for  three  years  with  marked 
success  almost  from  the  beginning.  The  first 
things  he  did  had  a  character  and  an  importance 
that  brought  Lucien  himseK  to  admit  a  degree 
of  soundness  in  the  young  fellow's  earlier  training, 
which  was  equal  to  great  praise.  Since  then  he  had 
found  the  line  in  the  most  interesting  room  in  the 
Palais  dlndustrie,  the  cours  had  twice  medalled  him, 
and  Albert  Wolff  was  beginning  to  talk  about  his 
coloration  deUcietise,  Also  it  was  known  that  he  had 
condescended  for  none  of  these  things.  His  success 
in  Paris  added  piquancy  to  his  preposterous  notion 
that  an  Englishman  should  go  home  and  paint  Eng- 
land and  hang  his  work  in  the  Academy,  and  made 
it  even  more  unreasonable  than  if  he  had  failed. 

57 


58  A  DAUGHTER  OP  TO-DAY. 

"For  me/'  remarked  Andre  Vambery,  with  a 
finely  curled  lip,  '•'  I  never  see  an  English  landscape 
without  thinking  of  what  it  would  bring  par  hectare. 
It  is  trop  arrangeey  that  country,  all  laid  out  in  a  pat- 
tern of  hedges  and  clumps,  for  the  pleasure  of  the 
milords.  And  every  milord  has  the  taste  of  every 
other  milord.   He  will  go  home  to  perpetuate  that !  '^ 

"  Siy  si !    Mais  dest  pour  sa  patrieP 

Nadie  defended  him.     Women  always  did. 

"  Bah !  "  returned  her  lover.  "-Four  7ious  autres  art- 
ists la  France  est  la  patrie,  et  la  France  seule !  Every 
day  he  is  in  England  he  will  lose — lose — lose.  Enfin, 
he  will  paint  the  portraits  of  the  wives  and  daughters 
of  Sir  Brown  and  Sir  Smith,  and  he  will  do  it  as  Sir 
Brown  and  Sir  Smith  advise.  Avec  son  talent  unique, 
distinctive !     Oh,  je  suis  d  hout  de  patience  !  " 

When  KendaPs  opinion  materialized  and  it  be- 
came known  that  he  meant  to  go  back  in  February, 
and  would  send  nothing  to  the  Salon  that  year,  the 
studio  tore  its  hair  and  hugged  its  content.  All  but 
the  master,  who  attempted  to  dissuade  his  pupil  with 
literal  tears,  of  which  he  did  not  seem  in  the  least 
ashamed  and  which  annoyed  Kendal  very  much. 
In  fact,  it  was  a  dramatic  splash  of  Lucien^s  which 
happened  to  fall  upon  his  coat-sleeve  that  decided 
Kendal  finally  about  the  impossibility  of  living 
always  in  Paris.     He  could  not  take  life  seriously 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  59 

where  the  emotions  lent  themselves  so  easily.  And 
Kendal  thought  that  he  ought  to  take  hf e  seriously, 
because  his  natural  tendency  was  otherwise.  Kendal 
was  an  Englishman  with  a  temperament  which  multi- 
plied his  individuality.  If  his  father,  who  was  once  in 
the  Indian  Staif  Corps,  had  lived,  Kendal  would  prob- 
ably have  gone  into  the  Indian  Staff  Corps  too.  And 
if  his  mother,  who  was  of  clerical  stock,  had  not  died 
about  the  same  time,  it  is  more  than  likely  that  she 
would  have  persuaded  him  to  the  bar.  With  his 
parents  the  obligation  to  be  anything  in  particular 
seemed  to  Kendal  to  have  been  removed,  however, 
and  he  followed  his  inclination  in  the  matter  instead, 
which  made  him  an  artist.  He  would  have  found  life 
too  interesting  to  confine  his  observation  of  it  within 
the  scope  of  any  profession,  but  of  course  he  could 
have  chosen  none  which  presents  it  with  greater  fas- 
cination. To  speak  quite  baldly  about  him,  his  intel- 
ligence and  his  sympathies  had  a  wider  range  than 
is  represented  by  any  one  power  of  expression,  even 
the  catholic  brush.  He  had  the  analytical  turn  of 
the  age,  though  it  had  been  denied  him  to  demon- 
strate what  he  saw  except  through  an  art  which  is 
synthetic.  With  a  more  comprehensive  conception 
of  modern  tendencies  and  a  subtler  descriptive  vo- 
cabulary, Kendal  might  have  divided  his  allegiance 
between  Lucien  and  the  magazines,  and  ended  a 


60  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

light-handed  fiction-maker  of  the  more  refined  order 
of  realists.  As  it  was,  he  made  his  studies  for  his 
own  pleasure,  and  if  the  people  he  met  ministered 
to  him  further  than  they  knew,  nothing  came  of  it 
more  than  that.  What  he  liked  best  to  achieve  was 
an  intimate  knowledge  of  his  fellow-beings  from  an 
outside  point  of  view.  Where  intimate  knowledge 
came  of  intimate  association  he  found  that  it  usu- 
ally compromised  his  independence  of  criticism, 
which  in  the  Quartier  Latin  was  a  serious  matter. 
So  he  rather  cold-bloodedly  aimed  at  keeping  his 
own  personality  independent  of  his  observation  of 
other  people's,  and  as  a  rule  he  succeeded. 

That  Paris  had  neither  made  Kendal  nor  marred 
him  may  be  gathered  for  the  first  part  from  his  con- 
tentment to  go  back  to  paint  in  his  native  land, 
for  the  second  from  the  fact  that  he  had  a  relation 
with  Elfrida  Bell  which  at  no  point  verged  toward 
the  sentimental.  He  would  have  found  it  difiicult 
to  explain  in  which  direction  it  did  verge — in  fact,  he 
would  have  been  very  much  surprised  to  know  that 
he  sustained  any  relation  at  all  toward  Miss  Bell 
important  enough  to  repay  examination.  The  red- 
armed,  white-capped  proprietress  of  a  cremerie  had 
effected  their  introduction  by  regretting  to  them 
jointly  that  she  had  only  one  helping  of  compote  de 
cerises  left,  and  leaving  them  to  arrange  its  con- 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  61 

sumption  between  them.  And  it  is  safer  than  it 
would  be  in  most  similar  cases  to  say  that  neither 
Elfrida's  heavy-lidded  beauty  nor  the  smile  that 
gave  its  instant  attraction  to  KendaPs  delicately 
eager  face  had  much  to  do  with  the  establishment 
of  their  acquaintance,  such  as  it  was.  Kendal, 
though  his  virtue  w^as  not  of  the  heroic  order,  would 
have  turned  a  contemptuous  heel  upon  any  imputa- 
tion of  the  sort,  and  Elfrida  would  have  stared  it 
calmly  out  of  countenance. 

To  Elfrida  it  soon  became  a  definite  and  agree- 
able fact  that  she  and  the  flower  of  Lucien^s  had 
things  to  say  to  each  other — things  of  the  rare  tem- 
peramental sort  that  say  themselves  seldom.  With- 
in a  fortnight  she  had  made  a  niche  for  him  in  that 
private  place  where  she  kept  the  images  of  those 
toward  whom  she  sustained  this  peculiarly  sacred 
obligation,  and  to  meet  him  had  become  one  of  those 
pleasures  which  were  in  Sparta  so  notably  unattain- 
able. I  cannot  say  that  considerations  which  from 
the  temperamental  point  of  view  might  be  described 
as  ulterior  had  never  suggested  themselves  to  Miss 
Bell.  She  had  thought  of  them,  with  a  little  smile, 
as  a  possible  development  on  Kendal's  part  that 
might  be  amusing.  And  then  she  had  invariably 
checked  the  smile,  and  told  herself  that  she  would 

be  Sony,  very  sorry.     Instinctively  she  separated 
5 


62  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

the  artist  and  the  man.  For  the  artist  she  had  an 
admiration  none  the  less  sincere  for  its  exaggera- 
tions, and  a  sympathy  which  she  thought  the  best 
of  herself;  for  the  man,  nothing,  except  the  half- 
contemptuous  reflection  that  he  was  probably  as 
other  men. 

If  Elfrida  stamped  herself  less  importantly  upon 
the  surface  of  KendaPs  mind  than  he  did  upon  hers, 
it  may  be  easily  enough  accounted  for  by  the  multi- 
plicity of  images  there  before  her.  I  do  not  mean 
to  imply  that  all  or  many  of  these  were  feminine, 
but,  as  I  have  indicated,  Kendal  was  more  occupied 
with  impressions  of  all  sorts  than  is  the  habit  of 
his  fellow-countrymen,  and  at  twenty-eight  lie  had 
managed  to  receive  quite  enough  to  make  a  certain 
seriousness  necessary  in  a  fresh  one.  There  was  no 
seriousness  in  his  impression  of  Elfrida.  If  he 
had  gone  so  far  as  to  trace  its  lines  he  would  have 
found  them  to  indicate  a  more  than  sl'ghtly  fantas- 
tic young  woman  with  an  appreciation  of  certain 
artistic  verities  out  of  all  proportion  to  her  power 
to  attain  them.  But  he  had  not  gone  so  far.  His 
encounters  with  her  were  among  his  casual  amuse- 
ments; and  if  the  result  was  an  occasional  dinner 
together  or  first  night  at  the  Folies  Dramatiques, 
his  only  reflection  was  that  a  girl  who  could  do  such 
things  and  not  feel  compromised  was  rather  pleas- 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  63 

ant  to  know,  especially  so  clever  a  girl  as  Elfrida 
Bell.  He  did  not  recognize  in  his  own  mind  the 
mingled  beginnings  of  approval  and  disapproval 
which  end  in  a  personal  theory.  He  was  quite  un- 
aware, for  instance,  that  he  liked  the  contemptuous 
way  in  which  she  held  at  arm's  length  the  moral 
laxities  of  the  Quartier,  and  disliked  the  cool  cyni- 
cism with  which  she  flashed  upon  them  there  the  sort 
of  jeic  de  mot  that  did  not  make  him  uncomfortable 
on  the  hps  of  a  Frenchwoman.  He  understood  that 
she  had  nursed  Nadie  Pahcsky  through  three  weeks 
of  diphtheria,  during  which  time  Monsieur  Vambery 
took  up  his  residence  fourteen  blocks  away,  without 
any  special  throb  of  enthusiasm ;  and  he  heard  her 
quote  Voltaire  on  the  miracles — some  of  her  ironies 
were  a  little  old-fashioned — without  conscious  dis- 
gust. He  was  willing  enough  to  meet  her  on  the 
special  plane  she  constituted  for  herself — not  as  a 
woman,  but  as  an  artist  and  a  Bohemian.  But 
there  were  others  who  made  the  same  claim  with 
whom  it  was  an  affectation  or  a  pretence,  and  Ken- 
dal granted  it  to  Elfrida  without  any  special  convic- 
tion that  she  was  more  sincere  than  the  rest.  Be- 
sides, it  is  possible  to  grow  indifferent,  even  to  the  un- 
conventionahties,  and  Kendal  had  been  three  years 
in  the  Quartier  Latin. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

If  Lucien  had  examined  Miss  Bellas  work  dining 
the  week  of  her  experiment  with  Anglo-Parisian 
journahsm,  he  would  have  observed  that  it  grew 
gradually  worse  as  the  days  went  on.  The  devotion 
of  the  small  hours  to  composition  does  not  steady 
one^s  hand  for  the  reproduction  of  the  human  mus- 
cles, or  inform  one's  eye  as  to  the  correct  manipula- 
tion of  flesh  tints.  Besides,  the  model  suffered  from 
EKrida  an  unconscious  diminution  of  enthusiasm. 
She  was  finding  her  first  serious  attempt  at  writing 
more  absorbing  than  she  would  have  believed  possi- 
ble, and  she  felt  that  she  was  doing  it  better  than 
she  expected.  She  was  hardly  aware  of  the  mo- 
ments that  slipped  by  while  she  dabbled  aimlessly 
in  unconsidered  color  meditating  a  phrase,  or  leaned 
back  and  let  nothing  interfere  with  her  apprehen- 
sion of  the  atelier  with  the  other  reproductive  in- 
stinct. She  did  not  recognize  the  deterioration  in 
her  work,  either;  and  at  the  veiy  moment  when 
Nadie  PaHcsky,  observing  Lucien's  neglect  of  her, 
inwardly  called  him  a  brute,  Elfrida  was  planning 

64 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  65 

to  leave  the  atelier  an  hour  earlier  for  the  sake  of 
the  more  urgent  thing  wliich  she  had  to  do.  She  fin- 
ished it  in  five  days,  and  addressed  it  to  Frank  Parke 
with  a  new  and  uplifting  sense  of  accomplishment. 
The  ever  fresh  miracle  happened  to  her,  too,  in  that 
the  working  out  of  one  article  begot  the  possibilities 
of  half  a  dozen  more,  and  the  next  day  saw  her  well 
into  another.  In  posting  the  first  she  had  a  premo- 
nition of  success.  She  saw  it  as  it  would  infallibly 
appear  in  a  conspicuous  place  in  Raffini^s  Chronicle^ 
and  heard  the  people  of  the  American  Colony  wonder- 
ing who  in  the  world  could  have  written  it.  She  con- 
ceived that  it  would  fill  about  two  columns  and  a 
half.  On  Saturday  afternoon,  when  Kendal  joined 
her  crossing  the  courtyard  of  the  atelier,  she  was 
preoccupied  with  the  form  of  her  rebuff  to  any  in- 
quiries that  might  be  made  as  to  whether  she  had 
written  it. 

They  walked  on  together,  talking  casually  of  cas- 
ual things.  Kendal,  glancing  every  now  and  then 
at  the  wet  study  Elfrida  was  carrying  home,  felt 
himself  distinctly  thankful  that  she  did  not  ask  his 
opinion  of  it,  as  she  had,  to  his  embarrassment  once 
or  twice  before ;  though  it  was  so  very  bad  that  he 
was  half  disposed  to  abuse  it  without  permission. 
Miss  Bell  seemed  persistently  interested  in  other 
things,  however — the  theatres,  the  ecclesiastical  bill 


6Q  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

before  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  the  new  ambassa- 
dor, even  the  recent  improvement  of  the  police  sys- 
tem. Kendal  found  her  almost  tiresome.  His  half- 
interested  replies  interpreted  themselves  to  her  after 
a  while,  and  she  turned  their  talk  upon  trivialities, 
with  a  gay  exhilaration  which  was  not  her  frequent 
mood. 

She  asked  him  to  come  up  when  they  arrived, 
with  a  frank  cordiality  which  he  probably  thought 
of  as  the  American  way.  He  went  up,  at  all  events, 
and  for  the  twentieth  time  admired  the  dainty 
chic  of  the  little  apartment,  telling  himself,  also  for 
the  twentieth  time,  that  it  was  extraordinary  how 
agreeable  it  was  to  be  there — agreeable  with  a  dis- 
tinctly local  agreeableness  whether  its  owner  hap- 
pened to  be  also  there  or  not.  In  this  he  was  alto- 
gether sincere,  and  only  properly  discriminating. 
He  spent  fifteen  minutes  wondering  at  her  whimsi- 
cal interest,  and  when  she  suddenly  asked  him  if  he 
really  thought  the  race  had  outgrown  its  physical 
conditions,  he  got  up  to  go,  declaring  it  was  too  bad, 
she  must  have  been  working  up  back  numbers  of 
the  Nineteenth  Century.  At  which  she  consented  to 
turn  their  talk  into  its  usual  personal  channel,  and 
he  sat  down  again  content. 

"Doesn^t  the  Princess  Bobaloff  write  a  charming 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  67 

hand !  "  Elfrida  said  presently,  tossing  him  a  square 
white  envelope. 

"It  isn^t  hers  if  it's  an  invitation.  She  has  a 
wretched  relation  of  a  Frenchwoman  living  with  her 
who  does  all  that.     May  I  light  a  cigarette  ? " 

"  You  know  you  may.  It  is  an  invitation,  but  I 
didn't  accept." 

"Her  soiree  last  night?  If  I'd  known  you  had 
been  asked  I  should  have  missed  you." 

"  I  ought  to  tell  you,"  Elfrida  went  on,  coloring  a 
little,  "  that  I  was  invited  through  Leila  Van  Camp — 
that  ridiculously  rich  girl,  you  know,  they  say  Lucien 
is  in  love  with.  The  Van  Camp  has  been  affecting 
me  a  good  deal  lately.  She  says  my  manners  are 
so  pleasing,  and  besides,  Lucien  once  told  her  she 
painted  better  than  I  did.  The  princess  is  a  great 
friend  of  hers." 

"Why  didn't  you  go?"  Kendal  asked,  without 
any  appreciable  show  of  curiosity.  If  he  had  been 
looking  closely  enough  he  would  have  seen  that  she 
was  waiting  for  his  question. 

"  Oh,  it  lies  somehow,  that  sort  of  thing,  outside 
my  idea  of  life.  I  have  nothing  to  say  to  it,  and  it 
has  nothing  to  say  to  me." 

Kendal  smiled  introspectively.  He  saw  why  he 
had  been  shown  the  letter,     "  And  yet,"  he  said,  "  I 


68  A  DAUGHTER   OF  TO-DAY. 

venture  to  hope  that  if  we  had  met  there  we  might 
have  had  some  little  conversation." 

Elfrida  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  threw  up 
her  head,  locking  her  slender  fingers  over  her  knee. 
^^  Of  course,"  she  said  indifferently.  ^^  I  understand 
why  you  should  go.  You  must.  You  have  arrived 
at  a  point  where  the  public  claims  a  share  of  your 
personality.     That^s  different." 

Kendal's  face  straightened  out.  He  was  too  much 
of  an  Englishman  to  understand  that  a  personally 
agreeable  truth  might  not  be  flattery,  and  Elfrida 
never  knew  how  far  he  resented  her  candor  when  it 
took  the  Hberty  of  being  gracious. 

"I  went  in  the  humble  hope  of  getting  a  good 
supper  and  seeing  some  interesting  people,"  he  told 
her.  "  Loti  was  there,  and  Madame  Rives-Chanler, 
and  Sargent." 

"  And  the  supper  1 "  Miss  Bell  inquired,  with  a 
touch  of  sarcasm. 

''  Disappointing,"  he  returned  seriously.  ^'  I  should 
say  bad — as  bad  as  possible."  She  gave  him  an  im- 
patient glance. 

"  But  those  people — Loti  and  the  rest — it  is  only 
a  serio-comic  game  to  them  to  go  the  Princess  Bob- 
aloff's.  They  wouldn't  if  they  could  help  it.  They 
don't  live  their  real  lives  in  such  places — among  such 
people ! " 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  69 

Kendal  took  the  cigarette  from  his  mouth  and 
laughed.  ^'Your  Bohemianism  is  quite  Arcadian 
in  its  quality — deliciously  fresh,"  he  declared.  ^'I 
think  they  do.  Genius  clings  to  respectability  after 
a  time.  A  most  worthy  and  amiable  lady,  the 
Princess." 

Elf rida  raised  the  arch  of  her  eyebrows.  ^^  Much 
too  worthy  and  amiable,"  she  ventured,  and  talked 
of  something  else,  leaving  Kendal  rasped,  as  she 
sometimes  did,  without  being  in  any  degree  aware 
of  it. 

^^  How  preposterous  it  is,"  he  said,  moved  by  his 
iiTitation  to  find  something  preposterous,  "  that  girls 
like  Miss  Van  Camp  should  come  here  to  work." 

"They  can't  help  being  rich.  It  shows  at  least 
the  germ  of  a  desire  to  work  out  their  own  salva- 
tion.    I  think  I  like  it." 

"  It  shows  the  germ  of  an  affectation  in  rather  an 
advanced  stage  of  development.  I  give  her  three 
months  more  to  tire  of  snubbing  Lucien  and  dis- 
tributing caramels  to  the  less  fortunate  young  ladies 
of  the  studio.  Then  she  will  pack  up  those  pitiful 
attempts  of  hers  and  take  them  home  to  New  York, 
and  spend  a  whole  season  in  glorious  apology  for 
them." 

Elfrida  looked  at  him  steadily  for  an  instant. 
Then  she  laughed  lightly.     "  Thanks,"  she  said.    "  I 


70  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

see  you  had  not  forgotten  my  telling  you  that 
Lucien  said  she  painted  better  than  I  did." 

Kendal  wondered  whether  he  had  really  meant  to 
go  so  far.  "  I  am  sorry,"  he  said,  ^^  but  I  am  afraid 
I  had  not  forgotten  it." 

"Well,  you  would  not  say  it  out  of  ill-nature. 
You  must  have  wanted  me  to  know — what  you 
thought." 

"  I  think,"  he  said  seriously,  "  that  I  did — at  least 
that  I  do — want  you  to  know.  It  seems  a  pity  that 
you  should  work  on  here — mistakenly — when  there 
are  other  things  that  you  could  do  well." 

"  ^  Other  things '  have  been  mentioned  to  me  be- 
fore," she  returned,  with  a  strain  in  her  voice  that 
she  tided  to  banish.  "May  I  ask  what  particular 
thing  occurs  to  you  ? " 

He  was  already  remorseful.  After  all,  what  busi- 
ness of  his  was  it  to  interfere,  especially  when  he 
knew  that  she  attached  such  absurd  importance  to 
his  opinion ?  "I  hardly  know,"  he  said,  " but  there 
must  be  something  5  I  am  convinced  that  there  is 
something." 

Elfrida  put  her  elbows  on  a  little  table,  and  shad- 
owed her  face  with  her  hands. 

"I  wish  I  could  understand,"  she  said,  "why  I 
should  be  so  willing  to — to  go  on  at  any  sacrifice,  if 
there  is  no  hope  in  the  end." 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  71 

KendaPs  mood  of  grim  frankness  overcame  him 
again.  ^^  I  believe  I  know,"  he  said,  watching  her. 
Her  hands  dropped  from  her  face,  and  she  turned  it 
toward  him  mutely. 

^^It  is  not  achievement  you  want,  but  success. 
That  is  why,"  said  he. 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  broken  by  light 
footsteps  on  the  stair  and  a  knock.  ^^My  good 
friends,"  cried  Mademoiselle  Palicsky  from  the  door- 
way, "have  you  been  quarrelling?"  She  made  a 
little  dramatic  gesture  to  match  her  words,  which 
brought  out  every  line  of  a  black  velvet  and  white 
corduroy  dress,  which  would  have  been  a  horror  upon 
an  Englishwoman.  Upon  Mademoiselle  Palicsky  it 
was  simply  an  admiration-point  of  the  kind  never 
seen  out  of  Paris,  and  its  effect  was  instantaneous. 
Kendal  acknowledged  it  with  a  bow  of  exaggerated 
deference.  "  C^est  parfait ! "  he  said  with  humility, 
and  lifted  a  pile  of  studies  off  the  nearest  chair  for 
her. 

Nadie  stood  still,  pouting.  "  Monsieur  is  amused," 
she  said.  "  Monsieur  is  always  amused.  But  I  have 
that  to  tell  which  monsieur  will  graciously  take  au 
grand  serienxP 

"  What  is  it,  Nadie  ? "  Elfrida  asked,  with  some- 
thing like  dread  in  her  voice.  Nadie^s  air  was  so 
important,  so  rejoiceful. 


72  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

"  Ucoutez  done  !  I  am  to  send  two  pictures  to  the 
Salon  this  year.  Carolus  Duran  has  already  seen 
my  sketch  for  one,  and  he  says  there  is  not  a  doubt 
— not  a  doubt — that  it  will  be  considered.  Your  con- 
-gratulations,  both  of  you,  or  your  hearts^  blood! 
For  on  my  word  of  honor  I  did  not  expect  it  this 
year.^' 

"  A  thousand  and  one  !  '^  cried  Kendal,  trying  not 
to  see  Elfrida's  face.  ^^  But  if  you  did  not  expect  it 
this  year,  mademoiselle,  you  were  the  only  one  who 
had  so  little  knowledge  of  affairs,"  he  added  gaily. 

^^And  now,"  Nadie  went  on,  as  if  he  had  inter- 
rupted her,  ^'  I  am  going  to  drive  in  the  Bois  to  see 
what  it  will  be  like  when  the  people  in  the  best  car- 
riages turn  and  say,  ^That  is  Mademoiselle  Nadie 
Palicsky,  whose  picture  has  just  been  bought  for 
the  Luxembourg.' " 

She  paused  and  looked  for  a  curious  instant  at 
Elfrida,  and  then  slipped  quickly  behind  her  chair. 
'^  Enibrasse  moi,  cherie  !  "  she  said,  bringing  her  face 
with  a  bird-like  motion  close  to  the  other  girl's. 

Kendal  saw  an  instinctive  momentary  aversion 
in  the  backward  start  of  Elfrida's  head,  and  from 
the  bottom  of  his  heart  he  was  sorry  for  her.  She 
pushed  her  friend  away  almost  violently. 

^^  No !  "  she  said.  ^^  No !  I  am  sorry,  but  it  is  too 
childish.   We  never  kiss  each  other,  you  and  I.   And 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  73 

listen,  Nadie :  I  am  delighted  for  you,  but  I  have  a 
sick  headache — la  migraine^  you  understand.  And 
you  must  go  away,  both  of  you — both  of  you ! "  Her 
voice  raised  itself  in  the  last  few  words  to  an  almost 
hysterical  imperativeness.  As  they  went  down  the 
stairs  together  Mademoiselle  Palicsky  remarked  to 
Mr.  John  Kendal,  repentant  of  the  good  that  he  had 
done: 

"  So  she  has  consulted  her  oracle  and  it  has  barked 
out  the  truth.  Let  us  hope  she  will  not  throw  her- 
self into  the  Seine !  " 

"  Oh  no !  "  Kendal  replied.  "  She's  horribly  hurt 
but  I  am  glad  to  believe  that  she  hasn^t  the  capacity 
for  tragedy.  Somebody,"  he  added  gloomily,  "  ought 
to  have  told  her  long  ago.'' 

Half  an  hour  later  the  postman  brought  Elfrida 
a  letter  from  Mr.  Frank  Parke,  and  a  packet  con- 
taining her  manuscript.  It  was  a  long  letter,  very 
kind,  and  appreciative  of  the  article,  which  Mr. 
Parke  called  bright  and  gossipy,  and,  if  anything, 
too  cleverly  unconventional  in  tone.  He  did  not 
take  the  trouble  to  criticise  it  seriously,  and  left 
Elfrida  under  the  impression  that,  from  his  point 
of  view  at  least,  it  had  no  faults.  Mr.  Parke  had 
offered  the  article  to  Eaffini,  but  while  they  might 
have  printed  it  upon  his  recommendation,  it.  ap- 
peared that  even  his  recommendation  could  not 


74  A  DAUGHTER  OP  TO-DAY. 

induce  them  to  promise  to  pay  for  it.  And  it  was  a 
theory  with  him  that  what  was  worth  printing  was 
invariably  worth  paying  for^  so  he  returned  the 
manuscript  to  its  author  in  the  sincere  hope  that  it 
might  yet  meet  its  deserts.  He  had  been  thinking 
over  the  talk  they  had  had  together,  and  he  saw 
more  plainly  than  ever  the  hopelessness  of  her  get- 
ting a  journahstic  start  in  Paris,  however,  and  he 
would  distinctly  advise  her  to  try  London  instead. 
There  were  a  number  of  ladies^  papers  published 
in  London — he  regretted  that  he  did  not  know  the 
editors  of  any  of  them — and  amongst  them,  with 
her  freshness  of  style,  she  would  be  sure  to  find  an 
opening.  Mr.  Parke  added  the  address  of  a  lodging- 
house  off  Fleet  Street,  where  Elf rida  would  be  in  the 
thick  of  it,  and  the  fact  that  he  was  leaving  Paris 
for  three  months  or  so,  and  hoped  she  would  write  to 
him  when  he  came  back.  It  was  a  letter  precisely 
calculated  to  draw  an  unsophisticated  amateur  mind 
away  from  any  other  mortification,  to  pour  balm 
upon  any  unrelated  wound.  Elfrida  felt  herself 
armed  by  it  to  face  a  sea  of  troubles.  Not  abso- 
lutely, but  almost,  she  convinced  herself  on  the  spot 
that  her  solemn  choice  of  an  art  had  been  imma- 
ture, and  to  some  extent  groundless  and  unwar- 
rantable; and  she  washed  all  her  brushes  with  a 
mechanical  and  melancholy  sense  that  it  was  for 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  75 

the  last  time.  It  was  easier  than  she  would  have 
dreamed  for  her  to  decide  to  take  Frank  Parkers 
advice  and  go  to  London.  The  life  of  the  Quartier 
had  already  vaguely  lost  in  charm  since  she  knew 
that  she  must  be  irredeemably  a  failure  in  the  ate- 
lier, though  she  told  herself,  with  a  hot  tear  or  two, 
that  no  one  loved  it  better,  more  comprehendingly, 
than  she  did.  Her  impulse  was  to  begin  packing  at 
once  J  but  she  put  that  off  until  the  next  day,  and 
wrote  two  or  three  letters  instead.  One  was  to  John 
Kendal.     This  is  the  whole  of  it : 

"  Please  believe  me  very  grateful  for  your  frank- 
ness this  afternoon.  I  have  been  most  curiously 
blind.  But  I  agree  with  you  that  there  is  some- 
thing else,  and  I  am  going  away  to  find  it  out  and  to 
do  it.  When  I  succeed  I  will  let  you  know,  but  you 
shall  not  tell  me  that  I  have  failed  again. 

"Elfrida  Bell." 

The  other  was  addressed  to  her  mother,  and  when 
it  reached  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bell  in  Sparta  they  said  it 
was  certainly  sympathetic  and  very  well  written. 
This  was  to  disarm  one  another's  mind  of  the  sus- 
picion that  its  last  page  was  doubtfully  daughterly. 

"  In  view  of  what  are  now  your  very  limited  re- 
sources, I  am  sure  dear  mother,  you  will  under- 


76  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

stand  my  unwillingness  to  make  any  additional 
drain  upon  them,  as  I  should  do  if  I  followed  your 
wishes  and  came  home.  I  am  convinced  of  my 
ability  to  support  myself,  and  I  am  not  coming 
home.  To  avoid  gi\"ing  you  the  pain  of  repeating 
your  request,  and  the  possibility  of  your  sending 
me  money  which  you  cannot  afford  to  spare,  I  have 
decided  not  to  let  you  know  my  whereabouts  until  I 
can  write  to  you  that  I  am  in  an  independent  posi- 
tion. I  will  only  say  that  I  am  leaving  Paris,  and 
that  no  letters  sent  to  this  address  will  be  for- 
warded. I  sincerely  hope  you  will  not  allow  your- 
self to  be  in  any  way  anxious  about  me,  for  I  assure 
you  that  there  is  not  the  slightest  need.  With  much 
love  to  papa  and  yourself, 

"  Always  your  affectionate  daughter, 

"  Elfrida. 

"  P.  S. — I  hope  your  asthma  has  again  succumbed 
to  Dr.  Paley." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

There  was  a  scraping  and  a  stumbling  sound  in 
the  second  floor  front  bedroom  of  Mrs.  Jordan^s 
lodgings  in  a  by-way  of  Fleet  Street,  at  two  o^cloek 
in  the  morning.  It  came  up  to  Elfrida  mixed  with 
the  rattle  of  a  departing  cab  over  the  paving-stones 
below,  outside  where  the  fog  was  lifting  and  show- 
ing one  street-lamp  to  another.  Elfrida  in  her  attic 
had  been  sitting  above  the  fog  all  night ;  her  single 
candle  had  not  been  obscured  by  it.  The  cab  had 
been  paid  and  the  andirons  were  being  disturbed 
by  Mr.  Golightly  Ticke,  returned  from  the  Criterion 
Restaurant,  where  he  had  been  supping  with  the 
leading  lady  of  the  Sparkle  Company,  at  the  leading 
lady^s  expense.  She  could  afford  it  better  than  he 
could,  she  told  him,  and  that  was  extremely  true,  for 
Mr.  Ticke  had  his  capacities  for  light  comedy  still 
largely  to  prove,  while  Mademoiselle  Phyllis  Fane  had 
almost  disestablished  herself  upon  the  stage,  so  long 
and  so  prosperously  had  she  pirouetted  there.  Mr. 
Golightly  Tickets  case  excited  a  degree  of  the  large 
compassion  which  Mademoiselle  Phyllis  had  for  in- 
cipient genius  of  the  interesting  sex,  and  which  served 
6  77 


78  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

her  instead  of  virtue  of  the  more  ordinary  sort.  He 
had  a  double  claim  upon  it,  because,  in  addition  to 
being  tall  and  fair  and  misunderstood  by  most  peo- 
ple, with  a  thin  nose  that  went  beautifully  with  a 
mediaeval  costume,  he  was  such  a  gentleman.  Phyl- 
lis loosened  her  purse-strings  instinctively,  with  gen- 
uine gratification,  whenever  this  young  man  ap- 
proached. She  believed  in  him  j  he  had  ideas,  she 
said,  and  she  gave  him  more ;  in  the  end  he  would 
be  sure  to  "  catch  on."  Through  the  invariable  pe- 
riod of  obscurity  which  comes  before  the  appearance 
of  any  star,  she  was  in  the  habit  of  stating  that 
he  would  have  no  truer  friend  than  Filly  Fane. 
She  "spoke  to"  the  manager,  she  pointed  out  Mr. 
Tickets  little  parts  to  the  more  intimate  of  her 
friends  of  the  press.  She  sent  him  dehcate  little 
presents  of  expensive  cigars,  scents,  and  soaps ;  she 
told  him  often  that  he  would  infallibly  "  get  there." 
The  fact  of  his  having  paid  his  own  cab-fare  from 
the  Criterion  on  this  particular  morning  gave  him, 
as  he  found  his  way  upstairs,  almost  an  injured 
feehng  of  independence. 

As  the  sounds  defined  themselves  more  distinctly, 
troublous  and  uncertain,  Elfrida  laid  down  her  pen 
and  listened. 

"  What  an  absurd  boy  it  is !  "  she  said.  "  He's 
trying  to  go  to  bed  in  the  fireplace." 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  79 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Mr.  Tickets  stage  of  intoxi- 
cation was  not  nearly  so  advanced  as  thatj  but 
Elfrida^s  mood  was  borrowed  from  her  article,  and 
she  felt  the  necessity  of  putting  it  graphically. 
Besides,  a  picturesque  form  of  stating  his  condition 
was  almost  due  to  Mr.  Ticke.  Mr.  Ticke  lived  the  un- 
fettered life ;  he  was  of  the  elect  j  Elf rida  reflected,  as 
Mr.  Ticke  went  impulsively  to  bed,  how  easy  it  was  to 
discover  the  elect.  A  glance  would  do  it,  a  word, 
the  turning  of  an  eyelid ;  she  knew  it  of  Golightly 
Ticke  days  before  he  came  up  in  an  old  velvet  coat, 
and  without  a  shirt  collar,  to  borrow  a  sheet  of  note 
paper  and  an  envelope  from  her.  On  that  occasion 
Mr.  Ticke  had  half  apologized  for  his  appearance, 
saying,  ^^  I^m  afraid  Pm  rather  a  Bohemian,^^  in  his 
sympathetic  voice.  To  which  Elfrida  had  responded, 
handing  him  the  note  paper,  ^^  Afraid !  "  and  the  un- 
derstanding was  established  at  once.  Elfrida  did 
not  consider  Mr.  Tickets  other  qualifications  or  dis- 
qualifications;  that  would  have  been  a  bourgeois 
thing  to  do.  He  was  a  helle  dme,  that  was  sufficient. 
He  might  find  life  difficult,  it  was  natural  and  prob- 
able. She,  Elfrida  Bell,  found  it  difficult.  He  had 
not  succeeded  yet  ]  neither  had  she ;  therefore  they 
had  a  comradeship — they  and  a  few  others — of  re- 
volt against  the  dull  conventional  British  public  that 
barred  the  way  to  success.     Yesterday  she  had  met 


80  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

him  at  tlie  street-door,  and  he  had  stopped  to  remark 
that  along  the  Embankment  nature  was  making  a 
bad  copy  of  one  of  Vereschagin^s  pictures.  When 
people  could  say  things  like  that,  nothing  else  mat- 
tered much.  It  is  impossible  to  tell  whether  Miss 
Bell  would  have  found  room  in  this  philosophy  for 
the  godmotherly  benevolence  of  Mademoiselle  Fane, 
if  she  had  known  of  it,  or  not. 

It  was  a  long,  low-roofed  room  in  which  ELfrida 
Bell  meditated,  biting  the  end  of  her  pen,  upon  the 
difference  it  made  when  a  fellow-being  was  not  a 
Philistine ;  and  it  was  not  in  the  least  like  any  other 
apartment  Mrs.  Jordan  had  to  let.  It  was  the  atelier 
of  the  Rue  Porte  Royale  transported.  Elfrida  had 
brought  aU  her  possessions  with  her,  and  took  a 
nameless  comfort  in  arranging  them  as  she  liked 
them  best.  "  Try  to  feel  at  home,"  she  said  whim- 
sically to  her  Indian  zither  as  she  hung  it  up.  ^^  We 
shaU  miss  Paris,  you  and  I,  but  one  day  we  shall  go 
back  together."  A  Japanese  screen  wandered  across 
the  room  and  made  a  bedroom  of  the  end.  Elfrida 
had  to  buy  that,  and  spent  a  day  in  finding  a  cheap 
one  which  did  not  offend  her.  The  floor  was  bare 
except  for  a  little  Afghan  prayer-carpet,  Mrs.  Jor- 
dan having  removed,  in  suspicious  astonishment,  an 
almost  new  tapestry  of  as  nice  a  pattern  as  she  ever 
set  eyes  on,  at  her  lodger's  request.     A  samovar 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  81 

stood  on  a  little  square  table  in  the  comer,  and 
beside  it  a  tin  box  of  biscuits.  The  dormer-win- 
dows were  hung  with  Eastern  stuffs,  a  Roman  lamp 
stood  on  the  mantel,  a  Koran-holder  held  Omar 
Khayyam  second-hand,  and  Meredith's  last  novel, 
and  "  Anna  Karenina,''  and  "  Salammb6,''  and  two  or 
three  recent  numbers  of  the  Figaro,  Here  and 
there  on  the  wall  a  Salon  photograph  was  fastened. 
A  study  of  a  girPs  head  that  Nadie  had  given  her 
was  stuck  with  a  Spanish  dagger  over  the  fireplace. 
A  sketch  of  Vambery's  and  one  of  KendaPs,  sacredly 
framed,  hung  where  she  could  always  see  them. 
There  was  a  vague  suggestion  of  roses  about  the 
room,  and  a  mingled  fragrance  of  joss-sticks  and 
cigarettes.  The  candle  shone  principally  upon  a 
little  bronze  Buddha,  who  sat  lotus-shrined  on  the 
writing-table  among  Elfrida's  papers,  with  an  in- 
effable, inscrutable  smile.  On  the  top  shelf  of  a 
closet  in  the  wall  a  small  pile  of  canvases  gathered 
dust,  face  downward.  Not  a  brush-mark  of  her 
own  was  visible.  She  told  herself  that  she  had  done 
with  that. 

The  girl  sat  with  her  long  cloak  about  her  and  a 
blanket  over  her  knees.  Her  fingers  were  almost 
nerveless  with  cold;  as  she  laid  down  her  manu- 
script she  tried  to  wring  warmth  into  them.  Her 
face  was  white,  her  eyes  were  intensely  wide  open 


82  A  DAUGHTER   OF  TO-DAY. 

and  wide  awake ;  they  had  black  dashes  underneath, 
an  emphasis  they  did  not  need.  She  lay  back  in 
her  chair  and  gave  the  manuscript  a  little  push 
toward  Buddlia  smiling  in  the  middle  of  the  table. 
"Well?"  she  said,  regarding  him  with  defiant  in- 
quiry, cleverly  mocked. 

Buddha  smiled  on.  The  candle  sputtered,  and 
his  shadow  danced  on  three  or  four  long  thick  en- 
velopes lying  behind  him.   Elfrida^s  eyes  followed  it. 

"  Oh !  "  said  she,  "  you  refer  me  to  those,  do  you  ? 
Ce  n^est  pas  poll,  Buddha  dear,  but  you  are  -always 
honest,  aren't  you  ? "  She  picked  up  the  envelopes 
and  held  them  fanwise  before  her.  ^^  Tell  me,  Bud- 
dha, why  have  they  all  been  sent  back  ?  I  myself 
read  them  with  interest,  I  who  wrote  them,  and 
surely  that  proves  something ! "  She  pulled  a 
page  or  two  out  of  one  of  them,  covered  with  her 
clear,  conscious,  handwriting,  a  handwriting  with 
a  dainty  pose  in  it  suggestive  of  inscrutable  things 
behind  the  word.  Elfrida  looked  at  it  affection- 
ately, her  eyes  caressed  the  lines  as  she  read  them. 
"  I  find  here  true  things  and  clever  things,"  she  went 
on ;  "  Yes,  and  original,  quite  original  things.  That 
about  Balzac  has  never  been  said  before — I  assure 
you,  Buddha,  it  has  never  been  said  before !  Yet 
the  editor  of  the  Athenian  returns  it  to  me  in  two 
days  with  a  printed  form  of  thanks — exactly  the 


\ 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  83 

same  printed  form  of  thanks  with  which  he  wonld 
return  a  poem  by  Arabella  Jones!  Is  the  editor 
of  the  Athenian  a  dolt^  Buddha  ?  The  Decade 
typewrites  his  regi^ets — that's  better — but  the  By- 
stander says  nothing  at  all  but  ^Declined  with 
thanks '  inside  the  flap  of  the  envelope."  The  girl 
stared  absently  into  the  candle.  She  was  not  in 
reality  greatly  discouraged  by  these  refusals;  she 
knew  that  they  were  to  be  expected ;  indeed,  they 
formed  part  of  the  picturesqueness  of  the  situation 
in  which  she  saw  herself,  alone  in  London,  making 
her  own  fight  for  Hf e  as  she  found  it  worth  living, 
by  herself,  for  herself,  in  herself.  It  had  gone  on 
for  six  weeks ;  she  thought  she  knew  all  its  bitter- 
ness, and  she  saw  nowhere  the  faintest  gleam  of 
coming  success ;  yet  the  idea  of  giving  it  up  did  not 
even  occur  to  her.  At  this  moment  she  was  reflect- 
ing that  after  all  it  was  something  that  her  arti- 
cles had  been  returned — the  editors  had  evidently 
thought  them  worth  that  much  trouble — she  would 
send  them  all  off  again  in  the  morning,  trying  the 
Athenian  article  with  the  Decade,  and  the  rejected 
of  the  Decade  with  the  Bystander;  they  would 
see  that  she  did  not  cringe  before  one  failure 
or  many.  Gathering  up  the  loose  pages  of  one 
article  to  put  them  back,  her  eyes  ran  mechan- 
ically again    over   its    opening    sentences.     Sud- 


84  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

denly  something  magnetized  them,  a  new  interest 
flashed  into  them ;  with  a  little  nervous  movement 
she  brought  the  page  closer  to  the  candle  and 
looked  at  it  carefully.  As  she  looked  she  blushed 
crimson,  and  dropping  the  paper,  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands. 

"Oh,  Buddha!^  she  cried  softly,  struggling 
with  her  mortification,  "no  wonder  they  rejected 
it!  There's  a  mistake  in  the  very  second  line — 
a  mistake  in  spelling  T'  She  felt  her  face  grow 
hotter  as  she  said  it,  and  instinctively  she  lowered 
her  voice.  Her  vanity  was  pricked  as  with  a  sword ; 
for  a  moment  she  suffered  keenly.  Her  fabric  of 
hope  underwent  a  horrible  collapse ;  the  blow  was  at 
its  very  foundation.  While  the  minute  hand  of  her 
mother's  old-fashioned  gold  watch  travelled  to  its 
next  point,  or  for  nearly  as  long  as  that,  Elfrida  was 
under  the  impression  that  a  person  who  spelled 
"  artificially ''  with  one  I  could  never  succeed  in  lit- 
erature. She  believed  she  had  counted  the  possibil- 
ities of  failure.  She  had  thought  of  style,  she  had 
thought  of  sense — she  had  never  thought  of  spell- 
ing !  She  began  with  a  penknife  to  make  the  word 
right,  and  almost  fearfully  let  herself  read  the  first 
few  hues.  "  There  are  no  more !  ^  she  said  to  herself, 
mth  a  sigh  of  relief.  Turning  the  page,  she  read 
on,  and  the  irritation  began  to  fade  out  of  her  face. 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  85 

She  turned  the  next  page  and  the  next,  and  her  eyes 
grew  interested,  absorbed,  enthusiastic.  There  were 
some  more,  one  or  two,  but  she  did  not  see  them. 
Her  house  of  hope  built  itself  again.  "A  mere 
slip,"  she  said,  reassured ;  and  then,  as  her  eye  fell 
on  a  little  fat  dictionary  that  held  down  a  pile  of 
papers,  "  But  Pll  go  over  them  all  in  the  morning,  to 
make  sure,  with  thaV^ 

Then  she  tm^ned  with  new  pleasure  to  the  finished 
work  of  the  night,  settled  the  sheets  together,  put 
them  in  an  envelope,  and  addressed  it ; 

The  Editor, 

The  Consul, 

6  Tihln/s  Lane, 

Fleet  Street,  U.  C. 

She  hesitated  before  she  wrote.  Should  she  write 
"The  Editor"  only,  or  "George  Alfred  Curtis,  Esq.," 
first,  which  would  attract  his  attention  perhaps,  as 
coming  from  somebody  who  knew  his  name.  She 
had  a  right  to  know  his  name,  she  told  herself; 
she  had  met  him  once  in  the  happy  Paris  days. 
Kendal  had  introduced  him  to  her,  in  a  brief  en- 
counter at  the  Salon,  and  she  remembered  the 
appreciativeness  of  the  glance  that  accompanied  the 
stout  middle-aged  English  gentleman's  bow.  Ken- 
dal had  told  her  then  that  Mr.  Curtis  was  the  edi- 


86  A   DAUGHTER   OP   TO-DAY. 

tor  of  the  Consul,  Yes,  she  had  a  right  to  know  his 
name.  And  it  might  make  the  faintest  shadow  of  a 
difference — ^but  no,  ^^The  Editor^'  was  more  digni- 
fied, more  impersonal  j  her  article  should  go  in  upon 
its  own  merits,  absolutely  upon  its  own  merits  ]  and 
so  she  wrote. 

It  was  nearly  three  o'clock,  and  cold,  shivering  cold. 
Mr.  Golightly  Ticke  had  wholly  subsided.  The  fog 
had  chmbed  up  to  her,  and  the  candle  showed  it  chng- 
ing  to  the  corners  of  the  room.  The  water  in  the 
samovar  was  hissing.  Elfrida  warmed  her  hands 
upon  the  cylinder  and  made  herself  some  tea.  With 
it  she  disposed  of  a  great  many  sweet  biscuits  from 
the  biscuit  box,  and  thereafter  lighted  a  cigarette. 
As  she  smoked  she  re-read  an  old  letter,  a  long 
letter  in  a  flowing  foreign  hand,  written  from  among 
the  haymakers  at  Barbizon,  that  exhaled  a  delicate 
perfume.  Elfrida  had  read  it  thrice  for  comfort  in 
the  afternoon ;  now  she  tasted  it,  sipping  here  and 
there  with  long  enjoyment  of  its  dehciousness.  She 
kissed  it  as  she  folded  it  up,  with  the  silent  thought 
that  this  was  the  breath  of  her  life,  and  soon — oh, 
passably  soon — she  could  bear  the  genius  in  NMie's 
eyes  again. 

Then  she  went  to  bed.  "You  little  brute,^'  she 
said  to  Buddha,  who  still  smiled  as  she  blew  out 
the  candle,  "  can't  you  forget  it  ? '' 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Miss  Bell  arose  late  the  next  morning,  which 
was  not  unusual.  Mrs.  Jordan  had  knocked  three 
times  vainly,  and  then  left  the  young  lady's  chop 
and  coffee  outside  the  door  on  the  landing.  If  she 
would  'ave  it  cold,  Mrs.  Jordan  reasoned,  she  would, 
and  more  warnin'  than  knockin'  three  times  no  livin' 
bean  could  expect.  Mrs.  Jordan  went  downstairs 
uneasy  in  her  mind,  however.  The  matter  of  Miss 
Bell's  breakfast  generally  left  her  uneasy  in  her 
mind.  It  was  not  in  reason,  Mrs.  Jordan  thought, 
that  a  young  littery  lady  should  keep  that  close, 
for  Elfrida's  custom  of  having  her  breakfast  depos- 
ited outside  her  door  was  as  invariable  as  it  was 
perplexing.  Miss  Bell  was  as  charming  to  her  land- 
lady as  she  was  to  everybody  else,  but  Mrs.  Jordan 
found  a  polite  pleasantness  that  permitted  no  oppor- 
tunity for  expansion  whatever  more  stimulating  to 
the  curiosity  and  irritating  to  the  mind  generally 
than  the  worst  of  bad  manners  would  have  been. 
That  was  the  reason  she  knocked  three  times  when 
she  brought  up   Miss    Bell's  breakfast.      At  Mr. 

87 


88  A  DAUGHTER  OP  TO-DAY. 

Tickets  door  she  wrapped  once,  and  cui'sorily  at 
that.  Mr.  Ticke  was  as  conversational  as  you  please 
on  all  occasions,  and  besides,  Mr.  Tickets  door  was 
usually  half  open.  The  shroud  of  mystery  in  which 
Mrs.  Jordan  wrapped  her  "  third  floor  front "  grew 
more  impenetrable  as  the  days  went  by.  Her  original 
theory,  which  established  Elfrida  as  the  heroine  of 
the  latest  notorious  divorce  case,  was  admirably  in- 
genious, but  collapsed  in  a  fortnight  with  its  own 
weight.  "  Besides,^'  Mrs.  Jordan  reasoned,  "if  it  'ad 
been  that  person,  ware  is  the  corrispondent  all  this 
time!  There's  been  nothin'  in  the  shape  of  a  cor- 
rispondent hangin'  round  this  house,  for  IVe  kep' 
my  eye  open  for  one.  I  give  'er  up,"  said  Mrs.  Jor- 
dan darkly,  "that's  wot  I  do,  an'  I  only  'ope  I  won't 
find  'er  suicided  on  charcoal  some  momin'  like  that 
pore  young  poetiss  in  yesterday's  paper." 

Another  knock,  half  an  hour  later,  found  Elfrida 
finishing  her  coffee.  Out-of-doors  the  world  was 
gi-ay,  the  little  square  windows  were  beaten  with 
rain.  Inside  the  dreariness  was  redeemed  to  the 
extent  of  a  breath,  a  suggestion.  An  essence  came 
out  of  the  pictures  and  the  trappings,  and  blended 
itself  with  the  lingering  fragrance  of  the  joss-sticks 
and  the  roses  and  the  cigarettes  in  a  delightful 
manner.  The  room  was  almost  warm  with  it.  It 
seemed  to  centre  in  Elfrida  -,  as  she  sat  beside  the 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  89 

writing-table,  whose  tumultuous  papers  had  been 
pushed  away  to  make  room  for  the  breakfast  dishes, 
she  was  instinct  with  it. 

Miss  Bell  glanced  hurriedly  around  the  room.  It 
was  unimpeachable — not  so  much  as  a  strayed  collar 
interfered  with  its  character  as  an  apartment  where 
a  young  lady  might  receive.  "  Come  in,"  she  said. 
She  knew  the  knock. 

The  door  opened  slowly  to  a  hesitating  push,  and 
disclosed  Mr.  Golightly  Ticke  by  degrees.  Mr.  Ticke 
was  accustomed  to  boudoirs  less  rigid  in  their  ex- 
clusiveness,  and  always  handled  Miss  Bell's  door 
with  a  certain  amount  of  embarrassment.  If  she 
wanted  a  chance  to  whisk  anything  out  of  the  way 
he  would  give  her  that  chance.  Fully  in  view  of 
the  lady  and  the  coffee-pot  Mr.  Ticke  made  a  stage 
bow.  "  Here  is  my  apology,"  he  said,  holding  out  a 
letter ;  '^  I  found  it  in  the  box  as  I  came  in." 

It  was  another  long  thick  envelope,  and  in  its 
upper  left-hand  corner  was  printed,  in  early  Eng- 
lish lettering.  The  St.  George^ s  Gazette.  Elfrida  took 
it  with  the  faintest  perceptible  change  of  counte- 
nance. It  was  another  discomfiture,  but  it  did  not 
prevent  her  from  opening  her  dark  eyes  with  a  re- 
mote effect  of  pathos  entirely  disconnected  with  its 
reception.  ^^And  you  climbed  aU  these  flights  to 
give  it  to  me  !  "  she  said,  with  gravely  smihng  plaint- 


90  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

iveness.  "  Thank  you.  Why  should  you  have  been 
so  good  ?     Please,  please  sit  down." 

Mr.  Ticke  looked  at  her  expressively.  ^^  T  don^t 
know,  Miss  Bell,  really.  I  don^t  usually  take  much 
trouble  for  people.  I  say  it  without  shame.  Most 
people  are  not  worth  it.  You  don't  mind  my  say- 
ing that  you're  an  exception,  though.  Besides,  I'm 
afraid  I  had  my  eye  on  my  reward." 

^^  You're  reward !  '^  Elfrida  repeated.  Her  smiling 
comprehension  insisted  that  it  did  not  understand. 

"The  pleasure  of  saying  good-morning  to  you. 
But  that  is  an  inanity.  Miss  Bell,  and  unworthy  of 
me.     I  should  have  left  you  to  divine  it." 

"How  could  I  divine  an  inanity  in  connection 
with  you?"  she  answered,  and  her  eyes  underlined 
her  words.  When  he  returned,  "Oh,  you  always 
paiTy ! "  she  felt  a  little  thrill  of  pleasure  with  her- 
self.    "  How  did  it  go — ^last  night  ? "  she  asked. 

"Altogether  lovely.  Standing  room  only,  and 
the  boxes  taken  for  a  week.  I  find  myself  quite 
adorable  in  my  little  part  now.  I  feel  it,  you  know. 
I  am  James  Jones,  a  solicitor's  clerk,  to  my  fingers' 
ends.  My  nature  changes,  my  environment  changes, 
the  instant  I  go  on.  But  a  little  thing  upsets  me. 
Last  night  I  had  to  smoke  a  cigar — the  swell  of  the 
piece  gives  me  a  cigar — and  he  gave  me  a  poor  one. 
It  wasn't  in  tone — the    unities   required  that  he 


A  DAUGHTER   OF  TO-DAY.  91 

should  give  me  a  good  cigar.  See!  I  felt  quite 
confused  for  the  moment." 

Elfrida's  eyes  had  strayed  to  the  corner  of  her 
letter.  "•  If  you  want  to  read  that/^  continued  Mr. 
Ticke,  "  I  know  you  won^t  mind  me." 

*^  Thanks/^  said  Elfrida  calmly.  "IVe  read  it 
already.     It's  a  rejected  article." 

"  My  play  came  back  again  yesterday  for  the  thir- 
teenth time.  The  fellow  didn't  even  look  at  it.  I 
know,  because  I  stuck  the  second  and  third  pages 
together  as  if  by  accident,  and  when  it  came  back 
they  were  still  stuck.  And  yet  these  men  pretend 
to  be  on  the  lookout  for  original  work !  It's  a  thrice 
beastly  world,  Miss  BeU." 

Elfrida  widened  her  eyes  again  and  smUed  with  a 
vague  impersonal  winningness.  ^^I  suppose  one 
ought  not  to  care,"  said  she,  "but  there  is  the 
vulgar  necessity  of  living." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Mr.  Ticke ;  and  then  sardonically : 
"  Waterloo  Bridge  at  ebb  tide  is  such  a  nasty  alter- 
native. I  could  never  get  over  the  idea  of  the 
drainage." 

"  Oh,  I  know  a  better  way  than  that."  She  chose 
her  words  deliberately.  "A  much  better  way.  I 
keep  it  here,"  holding  up  the  bent  little  finger  of 
her  left  hand.  It  had  a  clumsy  silver  ring  on  it, 
square  and  thick  in  the  middle,  bearing  deep-cut 


92  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

Sanskrit  letters.  "It  is  a  dear  little  alternative," 
she  went  on,  "  like  a  bit  of  brown  sugar.  Eather  a 
nice  taste,  I  believe, — and  no  pain.  When  I  am  quite 
tired  of  it  all  I  shall  use  this,  I  think.  My  idea  is 
that  if  s  weak  to  wait  until  you  can't  help  it.  Be- 
sides, I  could  never  bear  to  become — less  attractive 
than  I  am  now." 

"  Poison  !  "  said  Mr.  Golightly  Ticke,  with  an  in- 
voluntarily horrified  face.  Elfrida's  hand  was  hang- 
ing over  the  edge  of  the  table,  and  he  made  as  if  he 
would  examine  the  ring  without  the  formality  of 
asking  leave. 

She  drew  her  fingers  away  instantly.  "In  the 
vernacular,"  she  answered  coolly.  "You  may  not 
touch  it." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.     But  how  awfuUy  chic !  " 

"  It  is  chic,  isn't  it  f  Not  so  very  old,  you  know." 
Elfrida  raised  her  eyebrows  and  pursed  her  hps  a 
little.  "  It  came  from  Persia.  They  still  do  things 
like  that  in  those  delightful  countries.  And  IVe  had 
it  tested.  There's  enough  to — satisfy — three  people. 
When  you  are  quite  sure  you  want  it  I  don't  mind 
sharing  with  you.  If  you  are  going  out,  Mr.  Ticke, 
will  you  post  this  for  me !  It's  a  thing  about  Amer- 
ican social  ideals,  and  I'm  trying  the  Consul  with  it." 

"  DeHghted.  But  if  I  know  the  editor  of  the  Gofi- 
siilj  it  won't  get  two  minutes'  consideration." 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  93 

^'  Being  the  work  of  a  lady,  no.  Doesn't  matter 
how  good  it  is.  The  thing  to  know  about  the  Con- 
sul man  is  this.  He's  very  nice  to  ladies — can't 
resist  ladies ;  consequence  is,  the  paper's  half  full  of 
ladies'  copy  every  week.  I  know,  because  a  cousin 
of  mine  writes  for  him,  and  most  unsympathetic 
stuff  it  is.  Yet  it  always  goes  in,  and  she  gets  her 
three  guineas  a  week  as  regularly  as  the  day  comes. 
But  her  pull  is  that  she  knows  him  personally,  and 
she's  a  damned  pretty  woman." 

Elfrida  followed  him  with  interest.  "Is  she  as 
pretty  as  I  am  f "  she  asked,  purely  for  information. 

"  Lord,  no  !  "  Mr.  Ticke  responded  warmly.  "  Be- 
sides, you've  got  style,  and  distinction,  and  ideas. 
Any  editor  would  appreciate  your  points,  once  you 
saw  him.  But  you've  got  to  see  him  first.  My  can- 
did advice  is  talce  this  to  the  Consul  office." 

Elfrida  looked  at  him  in  a  way  which  baffled  him 
to  understand.  "  I  don't  think  I  can  do  that,"  she 
said  slowly ;  and  then  added,  '^  I  don't  know." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I'll  enter  my  protest  against  the 
foolishness  of  doing  it  this  way  by  refusing  to  post 
the  letter."  Mr.  Ticke  was  tremendously  in  earnest, 
and  threw  it  dramatically  upon  the  table.  "You 
may  be  a  George  Eliot  or  a — an  Elizabeth  Barrett 
Browning,  but  in  these  days  you  want  every  advan- 


94  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

tage,  Miss  Bell,  and  women  who  succeed  understand 
that." 

Elfrida^s  face  was  still  enigmatic,  so  engimatic 
that  Mr.  Ticke  felt  reluctantly  constrained  to  stop. 
^^  I  must  pursue  the  even  tenor  of  my  way,"  he  said 
airily,  looking  at  his  watch.  '^  IVe  an  engagement 
to  lunch  at  one.  BonH  ask  me  to  post  that  article, 
Miss  Bell.  And  by  the  way,"  as  he  turned  to  go, 
"  I  haven't  a  smoke  about  me.  Could  you  give  me 
a  cigarette  ? " 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Elfrida,  without  looking  at  him, 
^'  as  many  as  you  like,"  and  she  pushed  an  open  box 
toward  him ;  but  she  had  an  absent,  considering  air 
that  did  not  imply  any  idea  of  what  she  was  doing. 

"  Thanks,  only  one.  Or  perhaps  two — there  now, 
two!  How  good  these  little  Hafiz  fellows  are! 
Thanks  awfully.     Good-bye  !  " 

"Good-bye,"  said  Elfrida,  with  her  eyes  on  the 
packet  addressed  to  the  editor  of  the  Consul ;  and 
Mr.  Golightly  Ticke  tripped  downstairs.  She  had 
not  looked  at  him  again. 

She  sat  thinking,  thinking.  She  applied  herself 
first  to  stimulate  the  revolt  that  rose  within  her 
against  Golightly  Ticke's  advice — his  intolerably,  no, 
his  forgetfully  presumptuous  advice.  She  would  be 
just  to  him :  he  talked  so  often  to  women  with  whom 
such  words  would  carry  weight,  for  an  instant  he 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  95 

might  fail  to  recognize  that  she  was  not  one  of 
those.  It  was  absm^d  to  be  angry,  and  not  at  all  in 
accordance  with  any  theory  of  life  that  operated  in 
Paris.  Instinctively,  at  the  thought  of  a  moral  in- 
dignation upon  such  slender  grounds  in  Paris  she 
gave  herself  the  benefit  of  a  thoroughly  expressive 
Parisian  shrug.  And  how  they  understood  success 
in  Paris  !     Beasts  ! 

And  yet  it  was  aU  in  the  game.  It  was  a  matter 
of  skill,  of  superiority,  of  puppet-playing.  One  need 
not  soil  one^s  hands — in  private  one  could  always 
laugh.  She  remembered  how  Nadie  had  lauglied 
when  three  bunches  of  roses  from  three  different 
art  critics  had  come  in  together — how  inextinguish- 
ably Nadie  had  laughed.  It  was  in  itself  a  success 
of  a  kind.  Nadie  had  no  scruples,  except  about  her 
work.  She  went  straight  to  her  end,  believing  it  to 
be  an  end  worth  arriving  at  by  any  means.  And 
now  Nadie  would  presently  be  tres  en  viie — tres  en 
viie!  After  all,  it  was  a  much  finer  thing  to  be 
scrupulous  about  one's  work — that  was  the  real  mo- 
rahty,  the  real  life.  Elfrida  closed  her  eyes  and  felt 
a  little  shudder  of  consciousness  of  how  real  it  was. 
When  she  opened  them  again  she  was  putting  down 
her  protest  with  a  strong  hand,  crushing  her  rebell- 
ious instincts  unmercifully.  She  did  not  aUow  her- 
self a  moment's  self-deception.     She  did  not  insult 


96  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

her  intelligence  by  the  argument  that  it  was  a  per- 
fectly harmless  and  proper  thing  to  offer  a  piece  of 
work  to  an  editor  in  person — that  everybody  did  it — 
that  she  might  thereby  obtain  some  idea  of  what 
would  suit  his  paper  if  her  article  did  not.  She 
was  perfectly  straightforward  in  confronting  Go- 
lightly  Tickets  idea,  and  she  even  disrobed  it,  to  her 
own  consciousness,  of  any  garment  of  custom  and 
conventionality  it  might  have  had  to  his.  Another 
woman  might  have  taken  it  up  and  followed  it  with- 
out an  instant^s  hesitation,  as  a  matter  concerning 
which  there  could  be  no  doubt,  a  matter  of  ordinary 
expediency — of  course  a  man  would  be  nicer  to  a 
woman  than  to  another  man ;  they  always  were ;  it 
was  natural.  But  Elfrida,  with  her  merciless  in- 
sight, had  to  harden  her  heart  and  ply  her  self- 
respect  with  assurances  that  it  was  all  in  the  game, 
and  it  was  a  superb  thing  to  be  playing  the  game. 
Deliberately  she  chose  the  things  she  looked  best  in, 
and  went  out. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  weather  had  cleared  to  a  compromise.  The 
dome  of  St.  Paul's  swelled  dimly  out  of  the  fog  as 
Elfrida  turned  into  Fleet  Street,  and  the  railway 
bridge  that  hangs  over  the  heads  of  the  people  at 
the  bottom  of  Ludgate  Hill  seemed  a  cuiiously  solid 
structure  connecting  space  with  space.  Fleet  Street, 
wet  and  brown,  and  standing  in  all  unremembered 
fashions,  lifted  its  antiquated  head  and  waited  for 
more  rain ;  the  pavements  glistened  briefly,  till  the 
tracking  heels  of  the  crowd  gave  them  back  their 
squalor;  and  there  was  everywhere  that  newness 
of  turmoil  that  seems  to  burst  even  in  the  turbulent 
streets  of  the  City  when  it  stops  raining.  The  girl 
made  her  way  toward  Charing  Cross  with  the  west- 
ward-going crowd.  It  went  with  a  steady,  respect- 
able jog-trot,  very  careful  of  its  skirts  and  umbrellas 
and  the  bottoms  of  its  trousers ;  she  took  pleasure 
in  hastening  past  it  with  her  light  gait.  She  would 
walk  to  the  Consul  office,  which  was  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  Haymarket ;  indeed,  she  must,  for  the  sake 
of  economy.     ^^I  ought  really  to  be  very  careful," 

97 


98  A   DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

thought  Elfrida.  "  Pve  only  eight  sovereigns  left, 
and  I  can^t — oh,  I  canH  ask  them  for  any  more  at 
home."  So  she  went  swiftly  on,  pausing  once  before 
a  picture-dealer's  in  the  Strand  to  make  a  mocking 
mouth  at  the  particularly  British  quality  of  the  art 
which  formed  the  day's  exhibit,  and  once  to  glance 
at  a  news-stand  where  two  women  of  the  street,  one 
still  young  and  pretty,  the  other  old  and  foul,  were 
buying  the  Police  Gazette  from  a  stolid-faced  boy. 
"What  a  subject  for  Nadie,"  she  said  to  herself, 
smiling,  and  hurried  on.  Twenty  yards  further  a 
carter's  horse  lay  dying  with  its  head  upon  the  pave- 
ment. She  made  an  impulsive  detoiu*  of  nearly  half 
a  mile  to  avoid  passing  the  place,  and  her  thoughts 
recurred  painfully  to  the  animal  half  a  dozen  times. 
The  rain  came  down  again  before  she  reached  the 
Consul  office ;  a  policeman  misinformed  her,  she  had 
a  difficulty  in  finding  it.  She  arrived  at  last,  with 
damp  skirts  and  muddy  boots.  It  had  been  a  long 
walk,  and  the  article  upon  American  social  ideals 
was  Hmp  and  spotted.  A  door  confronted  her,  flush 
with  the  street.  She  opened  it,  and  found  herself 
at  the  bottom  of  a  flight  of  stairs,  steep,  dark,  and 
silent.  She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  went  up. 
At  the  top  another  closed  door  met  her,  with  The 
Consul  painted  in  black  letters  on  the  part  of  it 
that  consisted  of  ground  glass  somewhat  the  worse 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  99 

for  pencil-points  and  finger-nails.  Elfrida  lifted  her 
band  to  knock,  then  changed  her  mind  and  opened 
the  door. 

It  was  a  small  room  lined  on  two  sides  with  deal 
compartments  bulging  with  dusty  papers.  There 
were  two  or  three  shelves  of  uninteresting-looking 
books,  and  a  desk  which  extended  into  a  counter. 
The  upper  panes  of  the  window  were  ragged  with 
cobwebs,  and  the  air  of  the  place  was  redolent  of 
stale  pubhcations.  A  thick-set  little  man  in  specta- 
cles sat  at  the  desk.     It  was  not  Mr.  Curtis. 

The  thick-set  man  rose  as  Elfrida  entered,  and 
came  forward  a  dubious  step  or  two.  His  expres- 
sion was  not  encouraging. 

"  I  have  called  to  see  the  editor,  Mr.  Curtis,''  said 
she. 

"  The  editor  is  not  here." 

"  Oh,  isn't  he  ?  Tm  sorry  for  that.  When  is  he 
likely  to  be  in  ?     I  want  to  see  him  particularly." 

"  He  only  comes  here  once  a  week,  for  about  an 
hour,"  replied  the  little  man,  reluctant  even  to  say 
so  much.     ^^  But  I  could  see  that  he  got  a  letter." 

^^  Thanks,"  returned  Elfrida.  "  At  what  time  and 
on  what  day  does  he  usually  come  ? " 

^^  That  I'm  not  at  liberty  to  say,"  the  occupant  of 
the  desk  replied  briefly,  and  sat  down  again. 

"  Where  is  Mr.  Curtis  ? "  Elfrida  asked.     She  had 


100  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

not  counted  upon  this.  To  the  physical  depression 
of  her  walk  there  added  itself  a  strong  disgust  with 
the  unsuccessful  situation.  She  persisted^  knowing 
what  she  would  have  to  suffer  from  herself  if  she 
failed. 

^'  Mr.  Curtis  is  in  the  country.  I  cannot  possibly 
give  you  his  address.  You  can  write  to  him  here, 
and  the  letter  will  be  forwarded.  But  he  only  sees 
people  by  appointment — especially  ladies/'  the  little 
man  added,  with  a  half -smile  which  had  more  sig- 
nificance in  it  than  EKrida  could  bear.  Her  face 
set  itself  against  the  anger  that  biu-ned  up  in  her, 
and  she  walked  quickly  from  the  door  to  the  desk, 
her  wet  skirts  swishing  with  her  steps.  She  looked 
straight  at  the  man,  and  began  to  speak  in  a  voice 
of  constraint  and  authority. 

^'  You  will  be  kind  enough  to  get  up,''  she  said, 
"  and  listen  to  what  I  have  to  say."  The  man  got 
up  instantly. 

^'I  came  here,"  she  went  on,  "to  offer  your  editor 
an  article — this  article  5  "  she  drew  out  the  manu- 
script and  laid  it  before  him.  *^  I  thought  from  the 
character  of  the  contributions  to  last  week's  number 
of  the  Consul  that  he  might  ^icry  weU  be  glad  of  it." 

Her  tone  reduced  the  man  to  silence.  Mechanic- 
ally he  picked  up  the  manuscript  and  fingered  the 
leaves. 


A   DAUGHTER  OF   TO-|)AY. ;  ; ;  \' '  >,  j  ^' ^  IGlj 

^^  Eead  the  first  few  sentences,  please,"  said  Elfrida. 

^^  IVe  nothing  to  do  with  that  department,  miss — " 

'^  I  have  no  intention  whatever  of  leaving  it  with 
you.  But  I  shall  be  obliged  if  you  will  read  the 
first  few  sentences.'^  He  read  them,  the  girl  stand- 
ing watching  him. 

''Now,"  said  she,  ''do  you  understand?"  She 
took  the  pages  from  his  hand  and  returned  them  to 
the  envelope. 

"Yes,  miss — it's  certainly  interesting,  but — ^" 

"  Be  quite  sure  you  understand,"  said  Elfrida,  as 
the  ground-glass  door  closed  behind  her. 

Before  she  reached  the  foot  of  the  staircase  she  was 
in  a  passion  of  tears.  She  leaned  against  the  wall 
in  the  half  darkness  of  the  passage,  shaking  with 
sobs,  raging  with  anger  and  pity,  struggling  against 
her  own  contempt.  Gradually  she  gained  a  hold 
upon  herself,  and  as  she  dried  her  eyes  finally  she 
lost  all  feeling  but  a  heavy  sense  of  failure.  She  sat 
down  faintly  on  the  lowest  step,  remembering  that 
she  had  eaten  nothing  since  breakfast,  and  fanned 
her  flushed  face  with  the  sheets  of  her  manuscript. 
She  preferred  that  even  the  unregarding  London 
streets  should  not  see  the  traces  of  her  distress. 
She  was  still  sitting  there,  ten  minutes  later,  when 
the  door  opened  and  threw  the  gray  light  from  out- 
side over  her.     She  had  found  her  feet  before  Mr. 


il^^  J  Ja  t)itWHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

Curtis  had  fairly  seen  her.  He  paused,  astonished, 
with  his  gloved  hand  upon  the  knob.  The  girl 
seemed  to  have  started  out  of  the  shadows,  and  the 
emotion  of  her  face  dramatized  its  beauty.  She 
made  a  step  toward  the  door. 

'X^an  I  do  anything  for  you?'^  asked  the  editor 
of  the  Consul,  taking  off  his  hat. 

^'Nothing,  thank  you,"  Elfrida  replied,  looking 
beyond  him.  ^^  Unless  you  will  kindly  allow  me  to 
pass." 

It  was  still  raining  doggedly,  as  it  does  in  the 
the  late  afternoon.  EKrida  thought  with  a  superla- 
tive pang  of  discomfort  of  the  three  or  four  blocks 
that  lay  between  her  and  the  nearest  bake-shop. 
She  put  up  her  umbrella,  gathered  her  skirts  up  be- 
hind, and  started  wearily  for  the  Haymarket.  She 
had  never  in  her  life  felt  so  tired.  Suddenly  a 
thrill  of  consciousness  went  up  from  her  left  hand 
— the  hand  that  held  her  skirts — such  a  thrill  as  is 
known  only  to  the  sex  that  wills  to  have  its  pocket 
there.  She  made  one  or  two  convulsive  confirma- 
tory clutches  at  it  from  the  outside,  then,  with  a 
throe  of  actual  despair,  she  thrust  her  hand  into  her 
pocket.  It  was  a  crushing  fact,  her  purse  was  gone — 
her  purse  that  held  the  possibilities  of  her  journal- 
istic future  molten  and  stamped  in  eight  golden 
sovereigns — her  purse ! 


A  DAUGHTER  OK  TO-^AY.    !  i ''{'':-  i l}^^^ 

Elfrida  cast  one  hopeless  look  at  the  pavement 
behind  her  before  she  allowed  herself  to  realize  the 
situation.  Then  she  faced  it,  addressing  a  dainty 
French  oath  to  the  necessity.  ^^Come,"  she  said 
to  herself,  *^  now  it  begins  to  be  really  amusing — 
la  vraie  comedies  She  saw  herself  in  the  part — it 
was  an  artistic  pleasure — alone,  in  a  city  of  melo- 
drama, without  a  penny,  only  her  brains.  Besides, 
the  sense  of  extremity  pushed  and  concentrated 
her  J  she  walked  on  with  new  energy  and  pur- 
pose. As  she  turned  into  the  Haymarket  a  cab 
drew  up  almost  in  front  of  her.  Through  its  rain- 
beaten  glass  front  she  recognized  a  face — Kendal's. 
His  head  was  thrown  back  to  speak  to  the  driver 
through  the  roof.  In  the  instant  of  her  glance 
Elfrida  saw  that  he  wore  a  bunch  of  violets  in  his 
button-hole,  and  that  he  was  looking  splendidly  well. 
Then,  with  a  smile  that  recognized  the  dramatic 
value  of  his  appearance  at  the  moment,  she  lowered 
her  umbrella  and  passed  on,  unseen. 

Almost  gaily  she  walked  into  a  pawnbroker's 
shop,  and  obtained  with  perfect  nonchalance  five 
pounds  upon  her  mothei^s  watch.  She  had  no  idea 
that  she  ought  to  dispute  the  dictum  of  the  bald 
young  man  with  the  fishy  eyes  and  the  high  collar. 
It  did  not  occur  to  her  that  she  was  paid  too 
little.     What  she  realized  was  that  she  had  wanted 


;  lOij':  c'c/;:  «'   Aj  D^iU'GiiTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

to  pawn  something  all  her  life — it  was  a  deliciously 
effective  extremity.  She  reserved  her  rings  with 
the  distinct  purpose  of  having  the  experience  again. 
Then  she  made  a  substantial  lunch  at  a  rather  ex- 
pensive restaurant.  ''  It  isn't  time  yet/'  she  thought, 
"  for  crusts  and  dripping/'  and  tipped  the  waiter  a 
shilling,  telling  him  to  get  her  a  cab.  As  she  turned 
into  the  Strand  she  told  the  cabman  to  drive  slowly, 
and  made  him  stop  at  the  first  newspaper  office  she 
saw.  As  she  alighted  a  sense  of  her  extravagance 
dawned  upon  her,  and  she  paid  the  man  off.  Then 
she  made  a  resolutely  charming  ascent  to  the  edito- 
rial rooms  of  the  Illustrated  Age. 

Twenty  minutes  later  she  came  down  again,  and 
the  door  was  opened  for  her  by  Mr.  Arthur  Rattray, 
one  of  the  sub- editors,  a  young  man  who  had  already 
distinguished  himself  on  the  staff  of  the  Age  by  his 
intelligent  perception  of  paying  matter,  and  his  en- 
terprise in  securing  it.  Elfrida  continued  to  carry 
her  opinions  upon  the  social  ideals  of  her  native  de- 
mocracy in  their  much-stained  envelope,  but  there 
was  a  light  in  her  eyes  which  seemed  to  be  the  re- 
flection of  success. 

^'It's  still  raining,"  said  the  young  man  cheer- 
fuUy. 

"So  it  is,"  Elfrida  responded.  "And — oh,  how 
atrocious  of  me! — I've  left  my  umbrella  in  the 
cab ! " 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  105 

"  Hard  luck !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Rattray ;  ^^  an  um- 
brella is  an  organic  part  of  one  in  London.  Shall  I 
stop  this  ^bus  ? " 

''  Thanks,  no.  I'U  walk,  I  think.  It's  only  a  little 
way.  I  shan't  get  wet.  Good-afternoon  !  "  Elfrida 
nodded  to  him  brightly  and  hurried  off;  but  it 
could  not  have  occasioned  her  surprise  to  find  Mr. 
Rattray  beside  her  a  moment  later  with  a  careful 
and  attentive  umbrella,  and  the  intention  of  being 
allowed  to  accompany  her  that  little  way.  By  the 
time  they  arrived  Mr.  Rattray  had  pledged  himself 
to  visit  Scotland  Yard  next  day  in  search  of  a  dark 
brown  silk  en  tout  cas  with  a  handle  in  the  similitude 
of  an  ivory  mummy. 

"  Are  these  your  diggings  ? ''  he  asked,  as  they 
reached  the  house.  ^^Why,  Ticke  lives  here  too — 
the  gentle  Golightly — do  you  know  him  ? "  Elfrida 
acknowledged  her  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Ticke,  and 
Mr.  Rattray  hastened  to  deprecate  her  thanks  for 
his  escort.  ^'  Remember,"  he  said,  "  no  theories,  no 
fine  writing,  no  compositions.  Describe  what  you've 
seen  and  know,  and  give  it  a  tang,  an  individuality. 
And  so  far  as  we  are  concerned,  I  think  we  could 
use  that  thing  you  proposed  about  the  Latin  Quarter, 
with  plenty  of  anecdote,  very  well.  But  you  must 
make  it  short." 


CHAPTER  X. 

Kendal  mounted  to  Elfrida^s  appartenient  in  the 
Rue  Porte  Royale  to  verify  the  intimation  of  her 
departure,  or  happily  to  forestall  its  execution,  the 
morning  after  her  note  reached  him.  He  found 
it  bare  and  dusty.  A  workman  was  mending  the 
stove ;  the  concierge  stood  looking  on,  with  her  arms 
folded  above  the  most  striking  feature  of  her  per- 
sonality. Every  vestige  of  Elfrida  was  gone,  and 
the  tall  windows  were  open,  letting  the  raw  Febru- 
ary air  blow  through.  Outside  the  sunlight  lay  in 
squares  and  triangles  on  the  roofs,  and  gave  the 
place  its  finishing  touch  of  characterlessness.  Yes, 
truly,  mademoiselle  had  gone,  the  evening  before. 
Was  monsieur  then  not  aware  f  The  concierge  was 
of  opinion  that  mademoiselle  had  had  bad  news,  but 
her  tone  implied  that  no  news  could  be  quite  bad 
enough  to  justify  the  throwing  up  of  such  desirable 
apartments  upon  such  short  notice.  Mademoiselle 
had  left  in  such  haste  that  she  had  forgotten  both 
to  say  where  she  was  going  and  to  leave  an  address 
for  letters  j  and  it  would  not  be  easy  to  surpass  the 
106 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  107 

consciousness  of  injury  with  which  the  concierge 
demanded  what  she  was  to  say  to  the  fadetir  on  the 
day  of  the  post  from  America,  when  there  were 
always  four  or  five  letters  for  mademoiselle.  Mon- 
sieur would  be  hien  amiable  if  he  would  allow  that 
they  should  be  directed  to  him.  Upon .  reflection 
monsieur  declined  this  responsibility.  With  the 
faintest  ripple  of  resentment  at  being  left  out  of 
EKrida^s  confidence,  he  stated  to  himself  that  it 
would  be  intrusive.  He  advised  the  concierge  to 
keep  them  for  a  week  or  two,  during  which  Miss 
Bell  would  be  sure  to  remember  to  send  for  them, 
and  turned  to  go. 

^^Mademoiselle  est  allee  a  la  Gave  da  Nord^^  added 
the  concierge,  entirely  aware  that  she  was  contribut- 
ing a  fact  to  KendaPs  mental  speculation,  and  wish- 
ing it  had  a  greater  intrinsic  value.  But  Kendal 
merely  raised  his  eyebrows  in  polite  acknowledg- 
ment of  unimportant  information.  "  En  effet !  "  he 
said,  and  went  away.  Nevertheless  he  could  not  help 
reflecting  that  Gave  du  Hord  probably  meant  Calais, 
and  Calais  doubtless  meant  England,  probably  Lon- 
don. As  he  thought  of  it  he  assured  himself  that 
it  was  London,  and  his  irritation  vanished  at  the 
thought  of  the  futility  of  Elfrida  in  London.  It  gave 
him  a  half  curious,  half  solicitous  amusement  instead. 
He  pictured  her  with  her  Hungarian  peasant's  cloak 


108  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

and  any  one  of  her  fantastic  hats  in  the  conven- 
tional highways  he  knew  so  well,  and  smiled.  ^^  She 
will  have  to  take  herself  differently  there/'  he  re- 
flected, without  pausing  to  consider  exactly  what  he 
meant  by  it,  ^^  and  she'll  find  that  a  bore.''  As  yet 
he  himself  had  never  taken  her  differently  so  far  as 
he  was  aware,  and  in  spite  of  the  obvious  provoca- 
tion of  her  behavior  it  did  not  occur  to  him  to  do  it 
now.  He  reflected  with  a  shade  of  satisfaction  that 
she  knew  his  London  address.  When  she  saw  quite 
fit  she  would  doubtless  inform  him  as  to  what  she 
was  doing  and  where  she  might  be  found.  He  smiled 
again  at  the  thought  of  the  considerations  which 
Elfrida  would  put  into  the  balance  against  the  plea- 
sure of  seeing  him.  They  were  not  humiliating; 
he  was  content  to  swing  high  on  the  other  side  in- 
definitely ;  but  he  admitted  to  himself  that  she  had 
taken  a  pleasure  out  of  Paris  for  him,  and  went  back 
to  his  studio  missing  it.  He  went  on  missing  it  for 
quite  two  days,  at  the  end  of  which  he  received  an  im- 
petuous visit — excessively  impetuous  considering  the 
delay — from  Nadie  Palicsky.  In  its  course  Mademoi- 
selle Palicsky  declared  herself  robbed  and  wronged 
by  "  ceite  incomprise  d' Americaine,^^  whom  she  loved — 
but  lovedj  did  he  understand  ?  No,  it  was  not  prob- 
able that  he  understood — what  did  a  man  know  of 
love  ?    As  much  perhaps  as  that  flame — Kendal  per- 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  109 

mitted  himself  the  luxury  of  an  open  fii-e.  Nadie 
stared  into  it  for  a  moment  with  cynical  eyes.  Un- 
der the  indirect  influence  of  KendaPs  regard  they 
softened. 

^^  She  always  understood !  It  was  a  joy  to  show 
her  anything.  She  interpreted  Bastien  Lepage  bet- 
ter than  I — indeed  that  is  true — but  only  with  her 
soul,  she  had  no  hands.  Yes,  I  loved  her,  and  she 
was  good  for  me.  I  di-ew  three  breaths  in  her  pres- 
ence for  one  in  her  absence.  And  she  has  taken 
herself  away ;  even  in  her  letter — I  had  a  line  too — 
she  was  as  remote  as  a  star!  I  hope,"  continued 
Nadie,  with  innocent  candor,  as  she  swung  her  little 
feet  on  the  corner  of  Kendal's  table,  "that  you  do 
not  love  her  too.  I  say  prayers  to  le  Ion  Bieu  about 
it.     I  burn  candles." 

"  And  why  f "  Kendal  asked,  with  a  vigorous  twist 
of  his  palette  knife. 

"  Because  you  are  such  a  beast,"  she  responded 
calmly,  watching  his  work  with  her  round  cleft  chin 
in  the  shell  of  her  hand.  "That's  not  bad,  you 
know.  That  nearest  girl  sitting  on  the  grass  is 
almost  felt.  But  if  you  show  it  to  the  English  they 
will  be  so  shocked  that  they  will  use  lorgnettes 
to  hide  their  confusion.  Ah !  "  she  said,  jumping 
down,  "  here  am  I  wasting  myself  upon  you,  with 
a  carriage  a  Vheiire !    You  are  not  worth  it,"  and 


110  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

she  went.  After  that  it  seemed  to  Kendal  that  he 
did  not  miss  Elfrida  so  much.  Certainly  it  never 
occurred  to  him  to  hasten  his  departure  by  a  day  on 
her  account^  and  there  came  a  morning  when  he 
drove  through  Bloomsbuiy  and  realized  that  he 
had  not  thought  about  her  for  a  fortnight.  The 
British  Museum  suggested  her  to  him  there — the 
British  Museum,  and  the  certainty  that  within  its 
massive  walls  a  number  of  unimaginative  young 
women  in  collarless  sage-gTcen  gowns  were  copying 
casts  of  antique  sculptures  at  that  moment.  But 
he  did  not  allow  himself  to  suppose  that  she  could 
possibly  be  among  them. 

He  sniffed  London  aU  day  with  a  home-returning 
satisfaction  in  her  solidity  and  her  ugliness  and  her 
low-toned  fogs  and  her  great  throbbing  unostenta- 
tious importance,  which  the  more  flippant  capital 
seemed  to  have  intensified  in  him.  He  ordered  the 
most  British  luncheon  he  could  think  of,  and  re- 
flected upon  the  superiority  of  the  beer.  He  read 
the  leaders  in  the  Standard  through  to  the  bitter  end, 
and  congratulated  himself  and  the  newspaper  that 
there  was  no  rag  of  an  absurd  feuUleton  to  distract 
his  attention  from  the  importance  of  the  news  of 
the  day.  He  remembered  all  sorts  of  acquaintances 
that  Paris  had  foamed  over  for  months ;  his  heart 
warmed  to  a  certain  whimsical  old  couple  who  lived 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  Ill 

in  Park  Street  and  went  out  to  wallv  every  morning 
after  breakfast  with  their  poodle.  He  felt  disposed 
to  make  a  formal  call  upon  them  and  inquire  after 
the  poodle.  It  was  perhaps  with  an  unconscious 
desire  to  make  rather  more  of  the  idyl  of  his  home- 
coming that  he  went  to  see  the  Cardiff s  instead,  who 
were  his  very  old  friends,  and  lived  in  Kensington 
Square. 

As  he  turned  out  of  Kensington  High  Street  into 
a  shoppy  little  thoroughfare,  and  through  it  to  this 
quiet,  neglected  high-nosed  old  locality,  he  realized 
with  an  added  satisfaction  that  he  had  come  back 
to  Thackeray^s  London.  One  was  apt,  he  reflected, 
with  a  charity  which  he  would  not  have  allowed 
himself  always,  to  undervalue  Thackeray  in  these 
days.  After  aU,  he  once  expressed  London  so  well 
that  now  London  expressed  him,  and  that  was  some- 
thing. 

Kendal  found  the  Cardiffs — there  were  only  two, 
Janet  and  her  father — at  tea,  and  the  Halifaxes 
there,  four  people  he  could  always  count  on  to  be 
glad  to  see  him.  It  was  written  candidly  in  Janet^s 
face — she  was  a  natural  creature — as  she  asked  him 
how  he  dared  to  be  so  unexpected.  Lady  Halifax 
cried  out  robustly  from  the  sofa  to  know  how  many 
pictures  he  had  brought  backj  and  Miss  Halifax, 
full  of  the  timid  enthusiasm  of  the  well-brought-up 


112  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

elderly  English  girl,  gave  him  a  sallow  but  agi-ee- 
able  regard  from  imder  her  ineffective  black  lace 
hat,  and  said  what  a  surprise  it  was.  When  they 
had  all  finished,  Lawrence  Cardiff  took  his  elbow 
off  the  mantelpiece,  changed  his  cup  into  his  other 
hand  to  shake  hands,  and  said,  with  his  quiet,  clean- 
shaven smile,  ^'  So  you^re  back !  " 

"  Daddy  has  been  hoping  you  would  be  here  soon," 
said  Miss  Cardiff.  ^'  He  wants  the  support  of  your 
presence.  He's  been  daring  to  enumerate  ^Our 
Minor  Artists '  in  the  Brown  Quarterly ^  and  his  posi- 
tion is  perfectly  terrible.  Already  he's  had  forty- 
one  letters  from  friends,  relatives,  and  picture-deal- 
ers suggesting  names  he  has  ^doubtless  forgotten.' 
Poor  daddy  says  he  never  knew  them." 

^^Has  he  mentioned  me?"  asked  Kendal,  sitting 
down  squarely  with  his  cup  of  tea. 

''  He  has  not." 

"  Then  it's  in  the  character  of  the  uncomplaining 
left-over  that  I'm  wanted,  the  modest  person  who 
,  waits  until  he's  better.  I  refuse  to  act.  I'll  go  over 
to  the  howling  majority." 

'■'■  You  wiU  never  be  a  minor  artist,  Mr.  Kendal," 
ventured  Miss  Halifax. 

"  Certainly  not.  You  will  rise  to  greatness  at  a 
bound,"  said  Lady  Halifax,  with  substantial  convic- 
tion and  an  illustrative  wave  of  a  fat  well-gloved 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  113 

hand  with  a  doubled-up  fragment  of  bread  and  but- 
ter between  the  thumb  and  forefinger,  ''  or  we  shall 
be  much  disappomted  in  you." 

^^  It's  rapidly  becoming  a  delicate  compliment  to 
have  been  left  out/'  Mr.  Cardiff  remarked,  with 
melancholy. 

^^  Some  of  those  youVe  honored  with  your  recog- 
nition are  the  maddest  of  all,  aren't  they,  daddy,  as 
we  say  in  America  I  Dear  old  thing,  you  are  in  a 
perilous  case,  and  who  is  to  take  you  round  at  the 
Private  Views  this  year — that's  the  question  of  the 
hour !  You  needn't  depend  upon  me.  There  won't 
be  a  sovil  on  the  line  that  you  haven't  either  put  in 
or  left  out !  " 

''  It  was  a  fearful  thing  to  write  about,"  Kendal 
responded  comfortably.  "  He  deserves  all  the  con- 
sequences. Let  him  go  round  alone."  Under  the 
surface  of  his  thoughts  was  a  pleased  recognition  of 
how  little  a  fresh-colored  English  girl  changes  in 
three  years.  Looking  at  Miss  Halifax's  hat,  it  oc- 
curred to  him  that  it  was  an  agreeable  thing  not  to 
be  eternally  "  struck  "  by  the  apparel  of  women — so 
forcibly  that  he  almost  said  it.  ^'  What  have  you 
been  doing  ? "  he  asked  Janet. 

^'Wonders,"  Lady  Halifax  responded  for  her. 
^^I  can't  think  where  she  gets  the  energy  or  the 
brains — " 


114  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

"  Can't  you  ? "  her  father  interrupted.  ^'  Upon  my 
word  !  "  Mr.  Cardiff  had  the  serious  facial  muscles 
of  a  comedian,  and  the  rigid  discipline  he  was  com- 
pelled to  give  them  as  a  professor  of  Oriental  tongues 
of  London  University  intensified  their  effect  when  it 
was  absurd.  The  rest  laughed,  and  his  cousin  went 
on  to  say  that  she  wished  she  had  the  gift.  Her 
daughter  echoed  her,  looking  at  Janet  in  a  way  that 
meant  she  would  say  it,  whatever  the  consequences 
might  be. 

^^I  must  see  something,"  said  Kendal,  ^immedi- 
ately." 

^^See  something ! "  exclaimed  Lady  Halifax.  "Well, 
look  in  the  last  number  of  the  London  Magazine.  But 
you'll  please  show  something  first." 

"  Yes,  indeed !  "  Miss  Halifax  echoed. 

"When  will  you  be  ready  for  inspection?"  Mr. 
Cardiff  asked. 

"Come  on  Thursday,  all  of  you.  Til  show  you 
what  there  is." 

"Will  you  give  us  our  tea?"  Miss  Halifax  in- 
quired, with  a  nervous  smile. 

"  Of  course.  And  there  will  be  buns.  You  will 
do  me  the  invaluable  service  of  representing  the 
opinion  of  the  British  public  in  advance.  Will 
Thursday  suit  ? " 

"Perfectly,"  Lady  Halifax  replied.  "The  old 
rooms  in  Bryanston  Street,  I  suppose  ? " 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  115 

"  Thursday  won't  suit  us,"  Janet  put  in  decisively. 
"No,  papa;  IVe  got  people  coming  here  to  tea.  Be- 
sides, Lady  HaUf  ax  is  quite  equal  to  representing  the 
whole  British  public  by  herself,  aren't  you,  dear?" 
That  excellent  woman  nodded  with  a  pretence  of 
loftily  consenting,  and  her  daughter  gave  Janet 
rather  a  suspicious  glance.  "  Daddy  and  I  will  come 
another  day,"  Janet  went  on  in  reassuring  tones; 
"  but  we  shall  expect  buns  too,  remember." 

Then  they  talked  of  the  crocuses  in  Kensington 
Gardens;  and  of  young  Skeene's  new  play  at  the 
Princess's — they  all  knew  young  Skeene,  and  wished 
him  well;  and  of  Framley's  forthcoming  novel — 
Framley,  who  had  made  his  noble  reputation  by 
portrait-painting — good  old  Framley — how  would 
it  go? 

"  He  knows  character,"  Kendal  said. 

"  That's  nothing  now,"  retorted  Lawrence  Cardiff. 
"  Does  he  know  where  it  comes  from  and  where  it's 
going  to?  And  can  he  choose?  And  has  he  the 
touch  ?  And  hasn't  he  been  too  long  a  Royal  Aca- 
demician and  a  member  of  the  Church  of  England, 
and  a  believer  in  himself?  Oh  no  !  Framley  hasn't 
anything  to  tell  this  generation  that  he  couldn't  say 
best  on  canvas." 

"Well,"  said  Lady  Halifax  disconcertingly,  "I 
suppose  the  carriage  is  at  the  door,  Lawrence,  but 
you  might  just  send  to  inquire.     The  horses  stand 


116  A   DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

SO  badly,  I  told  Peters  he  might  take  them  round 
and  round  the  square." 

Cardiff  looked  at  her  with  amused  reproach,  and 
rang  the  bell ;  and  Janet  begged  somebody  or  any- 
body to  have  another  cup  of  tea.  The  Halifaxes 
always  tried  Janet. 

They  went  at  last,  entreating  Cardiff,  to  his  an- 
noyance, not  to  come  down  the  narrow  winding 
stair  with  them  to  their  carriage.  To  him  no 
amount  of  familiar  coming  and  going  could  excuse 
the  most  trivial  of  such  negligences.  He  very  often 
put  Janet  into  her  cab,  always  if  it  rained. 

The  moment  they  left  the  room  a  new  atmosphere 
created  itself  there  for  the  two  that  remained.  They 
sought  each  other's  eyes  with  the  pleasantest  sense 
of  being  together  in  reality  for  the  first  time,  and 
though  Janet  marked  it  by  nothing  more  significant 
than  a  suggestion  that  Kendal  should  poke  the  fire, 
there  was  an  appreciable  admission  in  her  tone  that 
they  were  alone  and  free  to  talk,  which  he  recog- 
nized with  gi-eat  good-will.  He  poked  the  fire,  and 
she  on  her  low  chair,  clasping  her  knee  with  both 
hands,  looked  almost  pretty  in  the  blaze.  There 
had  always  been  between  them  a  distinct  under- 
standing, the  understanding  of  good-fellowship  and 
ideas  of  work,  and  Kendal  saw  with  pleasure  that  it 
was  going  to  be  renewed. 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  117 

^^  I  am  dying  to  tell  you  about  it/^  he  said. 

''Paris?''  she  asked^  looking  np  at  him.  "I  am 
dying  to  hear.  The  people,  especially  the  people. 
Lucien,  what  was  he  like  ?  One  hears  so  much  of 
Lucien  -  they  make  him  a  priest  and  a  king  together. 
And  did  you  go  to  Barbizon  ?  '^ 

Another  in  her  place  might  have  added,  "And 
why  did  you  write  so  seldom  ?  ^'  There  was  some- 
thing that  closed  Janet's  lips  to  this.  It  was  the 
same  thing  that  would  not  permit  her  to  call  Ken- 
dal "  Jack/'  as  several  other  people  did,  though  her 
Christian  name  had  been  allowed  to  him  for  a  long 
time.  It  made  an  awkwardness  sometimes,  for  she 
would  not  say  "Mr.  Kendal"  either — that  would  be 
a  rebuke  or  a  suggestion  of  inferiority,  or  what  not 
— but  she  bridged  it  over  as  best  she  could  with 
a  jocose  appellative  like  "signor,"  "monsievir,"  or 
"Mr.  John  Kendal,"  in  full.  "Jack"  was  impossi- 
ble, "John"  was  worse.  Yes,  with  a  little  nervous 
sliudder,  mncJi  worse. 

He  told  her  about  Paris  to  her  fascination ;  she 
had  never  seen  it:  about  the  boulevards  and  the 
cafes  and  the  men's  ateliers,  and  the  vagrant  pathos 
of  student  life  there — he  had  seen  some  clean  bits 
of  it — and  to  all  of  this  old  story  he  gave  such  life 
as  a  word  or  a  phrase  can  give.  Even  his  repres- 
sions were  full  of  meaning,  and  the  best — she  felt  it 


118  A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

was  the  best — ^he  had  to  offer  her  he  offered  in  fewest 
words,  letting  her  imagination  riot  with  them.  He 
described  Lucien  and  the  American  Colony.  He 
made  her  laugh  abundantly  over  the  American 
amateur  as  Lucien  managed  him.  They  had  no 
end  of  fun  over  these  interesting,  ingenious,  and 
prodigal  people  in  their  relation  to  Parisian  profes- 
sional circles.  He  touched  on  Nadie  Palicsky 
lightly,  and  perhaps  it  was  because  Janet  insisted 
upon  an  accentuation  of  the  lines — he  had  sent  her 
a  photograph  of  one  of  Nadie's  best  things — that 
he  refrained  from  mentioning  Elfrida  altogether. 
Elfrida,  he  thought,  he  would  keep  till  another  time. 
She  would  need  so  much  explanation ;  she  was  too 
interesting  to  lug  in  now,  it  was  getting  late.  Be- 
sides, EKrida  was  an  exhausting  subject,  and  he  was 
rather  done. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Individually  a  large  number  of  Eoyal  Academi- 
cians pronounced  eTohn  Kendal's  work  impertinent, 
if  not  insulting,  meaningless,  affected,  or  flippant. 
Collectively,  with  a  corporate  opinion  that  might  be 
discussed  but  could  not  be  identitied,  they  received 
it  and  hung  it,  smothering  a  distressful  doubt,  where 
it  would  be  least  likely  to  excite  either  the  censure 
of  the  right-minded  or  the  admiration  of  the  unor- 
thodox. The  Grosvenor  gave  him  a  discreet  appre- 
ciation, and  the  New  received  him  with  joy  and 
th.anksgiving.  If  he  had  gone  to  any  of  the  Private 
Views,  which  temptation  he  fii^mly  resisted,  he  would 
have  heard  the  British  public — for  after  all  the  Brit- 
ish public  is  always  well  represented  at  a  Private 
Yiew — say  discontentedly  how  much  better  it  would 
like  his  pictures  if  they  were  only  a  little  more  fin- 
ished. He  might  even  have  had  the  cruel  luck  to 
hear  one  patron  of  the  arts,  who  began  by  designing 
the  pictorial  advertisements  for  his  own  furniture- 
polish,  state  that  he  would  buy  that  twilight  effect 
with  the  empty  fields,  if  only  the  trees  in  the  fore- 
119 


120  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

ground  weren^t  so  blurred.  Other  things,  too,  he 
might  have  heard  that  would  have  amused  him  more 
as  being  less  commonplace,  but  pleased  him  no  better, 
said  by  people  who  cast  furtive  glances  over  their 
shoulders  to  see  if  anybody  that  might  be  the  artist 
was  within  reach  of  their  discriminating  admira- 
tion ;  and  here  and  there,  if  he  had  listened  well,  a 
vigorous  word  that  meant  recognition  and  reward. 
It  was  not  that  he  did  not  long  for  the  tritest  word 
of  comment  from  the  oracle  before  which  he  had 
chosen  to  lay  the  fruit  of  his  labors  j  indeed,  he  was 
so  conscious  of  his  desire  to  know  this  opinion,  not 
over  clever  as  he  believed  it,  that  he  ran  away  on 
the  evening  of  varnishing-day.  If  he  staid  he  felt 
that  he  would  inevitably  compromise  his  dignity,  so 
he  hid  himself  with  some  amiable  people  in  Hamp- 
shire, who  could  be  relied  upon  not  to  worry  him, 
for  a  week.  He  did  not  deny  himself  the  papers, 
however.  They  reached  him  in  stacks,  with  the 
damp  chill  of  the  afternoon  post  upon  them  j  and  in 
their  sohd  paragi'aphs  he  read  the  verdict  of  the 
British  public  written  out  in  words  of  proper  length 
and  much  the  same  phrases  that  had  done  duty  for 
Eastlake  and  Sir  Martin  Shee.  Fortunately,  the 
amiable  people  included  some  very  young  people,  so 
young  that  they  could  properly  compel  Kendal  to 
go  into  the  fields  with  them  and  make  cowslip  balls, 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  121 

and  some  robust  girls  of  eighteen  and  twenty,  who 
mutely  demanded  the  pleasure  of  beating  him  at  ten- 
nis every  afternoon.  He  was  able  in  this  way  to 
work  off  the  depression  that  visited  him  daily  with 
the  damp  odor  of  London  art  criticism,  quite  inde- 
pendently of  its  bias  toward  himself.  He  told  him- 
self that  he  had  been  let  off  fairly  easily,  though 
he  winced  considerably  under  the  adulation  of  the 
Daily  Mercimjj  and  found  himself  breathing  most 
freely  when  least  was  said  about  him.  The  day 
of  his  triumph  in  the  Mercury  he  made  monstrous 
cowslip  balls,  and  thought  that  the  world  had  never 
been  sufficiently  congi-atulated  upon  possessing  the 
ideal  simplicity  of  children. 

Thereafter  for  two  days  nothing  came,  and  he 
began  to  grow  restless.  Then  the  Decade  made 
its  weekly  slovenly  appearance,  without  a  wrapper. 
He  opened  it  with  the  accumulated  interest  of  forty- 
eight  hours,  turned  to  "  Fine  Arts,"  and  girded  him- 
self to  receive  the  Decade's  ideas.  He  read  the  first 
sentence  twice — the  article  opened  curiously,  for  the 
Decade.  He  looked  at  the  cover  to  see  whether  he 
had  not  been  mistaken.  Then  he  sat  down  beside 
the  open  window,  where  a  fine  rain  came  in  and 
smote  upon  the  page,  and  read  it  through,  straining 
his  eyes  in  the  gathering  darkness  over  the  last 
paragraph.     After  that  he  walked  up  and  down  the 


122  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

room  among  the  shadows  for  half  an  hour,  not  ring- 
ing for  lights,  because  the  scented  darkness  of  the 
garden,  where  the  rain  was  dripping,  and  the  half 
outlines  of  the  things  in  the  room  were  so  much 
more  grateful  to  his  imagination  as  the  Decacys 
critic  had  stimulated  it  with  the  young,  mocking, 
brilliant  voice  that  spoke  in  the  department  of 
^'Fine  Arts/^  It  stirred  him  all  through.  In  the 
pleasure  it  gave  him  he  refused  to  reflect  how  often 
it  dismissed  with  contempt  where  it  should  have 
considered  with  respect,  how  it  was  sometimes  in- 
consistent, sometimes  exaggerated  and  obscure.  He 
was  rapt  in  the  delicacy  and  truth  with  which  the 
critic  translated  into  words  the  recognizable  souls 
of  a  certain  few  pictures — it  could  not  displease  him 
that  they  were  very  few,  since  three  of  his  were 
among  them.  When  it  spoke  of  these  the  voice  was 
strong  and  gentle,  with  an  uplifted  tenderness,  and 
aU  the  suppressed  suggestion  that  good  pictures 
themselves  have.  It  made  theii-  quality  felt  in  the 
lines,  and  it  spoke  with  a  personal  joy. 

"  A  new  note  !  "  Kendal  thought  aloud.  "  A  voice 
crying  in  the  wilderness,  by  Jove !  Wolff  might 
have  done  it  if  it  had  been  in  French,  but  Wolff 
would  have  been  fairer  and  more  technical  and  less 
sympathetic." 

A  fine  energy  crept  all  through  him  and  burned  at 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  123 

his  finger-ends.  The  desh^e  to  work  seized  him  de- 
liciously  with  the  thrill  of  being  understood,  a  long- 
ing to  accomplish  to  the  utmost  of  his  limitations — 
he  must  reasonably  suppose  his  limitations.  Some- 
times they  were  close  and  real ;  at  this  moment  they 
were  far  off  and  vague,  and  almost  dissolved  by  the 
force  of  his  joyous  intention.  He  threw  himself 
mentally  upon  a  half-finished  canvas  that  stood 
against  the  wall  in  Bryanston  Street,  and  spent  ten 
exalted  minutes  in  finishing  it.  When  it  was  done 
he  found  it  ravishing,  and  raged  because  he  could 
not  decently  leave  for  town  before  four  o'clock  next 
day.  He  worked  off  the  time  before  dinner  by  put- 
ting his  things  together,  and  the  amiable  people  had 
never  found  him  so  delightful  as  he  was  that  even- 
ing. After  amusing  one  of  the  robust  young  ladies 
for  half  an  hour  at  prodigious  cost,  he  found  him- 
self comparing  their  conversation  with  the  talk  he 
might  have  had  in  the  time  with  Elfrida  Bell,  and 
a  fresh  sense  of  injury  visited  him  at  having  been 
high-handedly  debarred  from  that  pleasure  for  so 
many  weeks.  It  staid  with  him  and  pricked  him 
all  the  way  to  town  next  day.  He  was  a  fool,  he 
thought,  to  have  missed  the  chance  of  meeting  her 
upon  the  opening  days  of  the  London  exhibitions ; 
she  was  sure  to  have  gone,  if  it  were  only  to  scoff, 
and  her  scoffing  would  have  been  so  amusing  to 


124  A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

listen  to.  He  thought  gloomily  of  the  impossibility 
of  finding  her  in  London  if  she  didn't  wish  to  be 
found,  and  he  concluded  that  he  really  wanted  to 
see  her,  that  he  must  see  her  soon — to  show  her 
that  article. 

The  desire  had  not  passed  from  him  three  days 
later,  when  the  boy  from  below-stairs  brought  him 
up  a  card.  Kendal  was  in  his  shii-t-sleeves,  and 
had  just  established  a  relation  of  great  intimacy 
with  an  entirely  new  subject.  Before  the  boy 
reached  him  he  recognized  with  annoyance  that  it 
was  a  lady's  card,  and  he  took  it  between  his  thumb 
and  his  palette  with  the  most  brutal  impatience. 
^*  You  are  to  say — "  he  began,  and  stopped.  ^'  Show 
the  lady  up,"  he  said  in  substitution,  while  his  face 
cleared  with  a  puzzled  amusement,  and  he  looked  at 
the  card  again.  It  read  "Miss  Elfrida  Bell,"  but 
the  odd  thing  was  down  in  one  corner,  where  ran 
the  statement,  in  small  square  type,  ^^The  Illustrated 
AgeP 

There  was  a  sweet  glory  of  May  sunlight  in  the 
streets  outside,  and  she  seemed  to  bring  some  of  it 
in  with  her,  as  well  as  the  actual  perfume  of  the 
bunch  of  violets  which  she  wore  in  her  belt.  Her 
eyes,  under  the  queerest  of  hats,  were  bright  and 
soft,  there  was  a  faint  color  in  her  cheeks.  Her 
shapely  hands  were  in  gi-ay  gloves  with  long  gaunt- 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  125 

lets,  and  in  one  of  them  she  carried  a  business-like 
little  black  notebook. 

She  came  in  with  a  shy  hesitation  that  became 
her  very  well,  and  as  she  approached,  their  old  un- 
derstanding immediately  arranged  itself  between 
them.  ^^  I  should  be  perfectly  justified  in  sulking/' 
he  declared  gaily,  disencumbering  a  chair  of  a  bat- 
tered tin  box  of  empty  twisted  tubes  for  her,  ^'  and 
asking  you  to  what  I  might  attribute  the  honor  of 
this  visit."  He  put  up  his  eye-glass  and  stared 
through  it  with  an  absurd  affectation  of  dignified 
astonishment.  "•  But  PU  magnanimously  admit  that 
I'm  delighted  to  see  you.  Fll  even  lay  aside  my 
wounded  sensibilities  enough  to  ask  you  where 
you've  been." 

^'  I !  "  faltered  Elfrida  softly,  with  her  wide-eyed 
smile.  "  Oh !  as  if  that  were  of  any  consequence !  " 
She  stepped  back  a  pace  or  two  to  look  at  an  un- 
packed canvas,  and  her  expression  changed.  "Ah  !  " 
she  said  gravely,  '^  how  good  it  is  to  see  that !  I  wish 
I  could  remember  by  myself  so  much,  half  so  much, 
of  the  sunlight  of  that  country.  In  three  days  of 
these  fogs  I  had  forgotten  it.  I  mean  the  reality  of 
it.  Only  a  pale  theory  staid  with  me.  Now  it  comes 
back." 

"Then  you  have  been  in  London?"  he  probed, 
while  she  looked  wistfully  at  the  fringe  of  a  wood 


126  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

in  Brittany  that  stood  upon  his  canvas.  Her  eyes 
left  the  picture  and  wandered  around  the  room. 

'^  I !  "  she  said  again.  "  In  London  ?  Yes,  I  have 
been  in  London.  How  splendidly  diiferent  you 
are  I "  she  said,  looking  straight  at  him  as  if  she 
stated  a  falling  of  the  thermometer  or  a  quotation 
from  the  Stock  Exchange.  "But  are  you  sure, 
perfectly  sure,"  she  went  on,  with  dainty  emphasis, 
"that  you  can  stay  different?  Aren^t  you  the  least 
bit  afraid  that  in  the  end  your  work  may  become — 
pardon  me — commercial,  like  the  rest '?  Is  there  no 
danger  ? " 

"I  wish  you  would  sit  down,"  Kendal  said  rue- 
fully. "  I  shouldn^t  feel  it  so  much,  perhaps,  if  you 
sat  down.  And  pending  my  acknowledgment  of  a 
Londoner's  sin  in  painting  in  London,  it  seems  to 
me  that  you  have  put  yourself  under  pretty  much 
the  same  condemnation." 

"I  have  not  come  to  paint,"  Elfrida  answered 
quickly.  "  I  have  put  away  the  insanity  of  thinking 
I  ever  could.  I  told  you  that,  I  think,  in  a  letter. 
But  there  are — other  things.  You  may  remember 
that  you  thought  there  were." 

She  spoke  with  so  much  repressed  feeling  that 
Kendal  reproached  himself  with  not  having  thought 
carefully  enough  about  it  to  take  her  at  her  letter's 
word.     He  took  up  the  card  that  announced  her, 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  127 

and  looked  again  at  the  lower  left-hand  comer.  ^'  I 
do  remember,  but  I  don't  understand.  Is  this  one 
of  them?"  he  asked. 

Something,  something  absolutely  unintentional 
and  of  the  shghtest  quality,  in  his  voice  operated  to 
lower  her  estimate  of  the  announcement  on  the 
card,  and  she  flushed  a  little. 

"  It's — it's  a  way,"  she  said.  "  But  it  was  stupid — 
bourgeois — of  me  to  send  up  a  card — such  a  card. 
"With  most  of  these  people  it  is  necessary  j  with  you, 
of  course,  it  was  hideous !  Give  it  to  me,  please," 
and  she  proceeded  to  tear  it  slowly  into  little  bits. 
^^You  must  pardon  me,"  she  went  on,  "but  I 
thought,  you  know — we  are  not  in  Paris  now — and 
there  might  be  people  here.  And  then,  after  aU,  it 
explains  me." 

"  Then  I  should  like  another,"  Kendal  interrupted. 

"  I'm  going  to  do  a  descriptive  article  for  the  Age; 
the  editor  wants  to  call  it  '  Through  the  Studios,'  or 
something  of  that  sort — about  the  artists  over  here 
and  their  ways  of  working,  and  their  places,  and 
their  ideas,  and  all  that,  and  I  thought,  if  you  didn't 
mind,  I  should  like  to  begin  with  you.  Though  it's 
rather  like  taking  an  advantage." 

"But  are  you  going  in  for  this  sort  of  thing 
seriously?  Have  you  ever  done  anything  of  the 
sort  before?     Isn't  it  an  uncommon  grind?"  Ken- 


128  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

dal  asked,  with  hearty  interest.  ^^  What  made  you 
think  of  it?  Of  course  you  may  say  any  mortal 
thing  you  want  to  about  me — though  I  call  it  treach- 
ery, your  going  over  to  the  critics.  And  Pm  afraid 
you  won't  find  anything  very  picturesque  here.  As 
you  say,  we're  not  in  Paris." 

'^  Oh  yes,  1  shaU,''  she  replied  sweetly,  ignoring  his 
questions.  ^^  I  like  pipes  and  cobwebs  and  old  coats 
hanging  on  a  nail,  and  plenty  of  htter  and  dust  and 
confusion.  It's  much  better  for  work  than  tapes- 
tries and  old  armour  and  wood-carvings." 

Miss  BeU  did  not  open  her  little  black  notebook  to 
record  these  things,  however.  Instead,  she  picked  up 
a  number  of  the  London  Magazine  and  looked  at  the 
title  of  an  article  pencil-marked  on  the  pale  green 
cover.  It  was  Janet  Cardiff's  article,  and  Lady 
Halifax  had  marked  it.  ELfrida  had  read  it  before. 
It  was  a  fanciful  recreation  of  the  conditions  of 
verse-making  when  Herrick  wrote,  very  pleasur- 
ably  ironical  in  its  bearing  upon  more  modern 
poetry-making.  It  had  quite  deserved  the  praise 
she  gave  it  in  the  corner  which  the  Age  reserved  for 
magazines.  ^^  I  want  you  to  understand,"  she  said 
slowly,  "  that  it  is  only  a  way.  I  shall  not  be  con- 
tent to  stick  at  this — ordinary — ^kind  of  journal- 
istic work.  I  shall  aim  at  something  better — some- 
thing perhaps  even  as  good  as  that,"  she  held  up 
the  marked  article.     "  I  wonder  if  she  realizes  how 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  129 

fortunate  she  is — to  appear  between  the  same  covers 
as  Swinburne !  " 

^'  It  is  not  fortune  altogether/'  Kendal  answered ; 
'^  she  works  hard.'' 

^^Do  you  know  her?  Do  you  see  her  often! 
WiU  you  tell  her  that  there  is  somebody  who  takes 
a  special  dehght  in  every  word  she  writes  f "  asked 
Elfrida  impulsively.  ''  But  no,  of  course  not !  Why 
should  she  care — she  must  hear  such  things  so  often. 
Tell  me,  though,  what  is  she  like,  and  particularly 
how  old  is  she  ?  " 

Kendal  had  begun  to  paint  again  5  it  was  a  com- 
pliment he  was  able  to  pay  only  to  a  very  few  peo- 
ple. "I  shall  certainly  repeat  it  to  her,"  he  said. 
"  She  can't  hear  such  things  often  enough — nobody 
can.  How  shall  I  tell  you  what  she  is  like  !  She  is 
tall,  about  as  tall  as  you  are,  and  rather  thin.  She 
has  a  good  color,  and  nice  hair  and  eyes." 

"  What  colored  eyes  f " 

"Brown,  I  think.  No — I  don't  know,  but  not 
blue.  And  good  eyebrows.  Particularly  good  eye- 
brows." 

" She  must  be  plain,"  Elfrida  thought,  "if  he  has 
to  dwell  upon  her  eyebrows.  And  how  old  ?  "  she 
asked  again.     "  Much  over  thirty  ? " 

"  Oh  dear,  no  !  Not  thirty.  Twenty-four,  I  should 
say." 

Elf rida's  face  fell  perceptibly.     "  Twenty-four !  " 


130  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

she  exclaimed.  ^^  And  I  am  already  twenty !  I  shall 
never  catch  up  to  her  in  four  years.  Oh,  you  have 
made  me  so  unhappy !  I  thought  she  must  be  quite 
old — ^forty  perhaps.  I  was  prepared  to  venerate 
her.  But  twenty-four  and  good  eyebrows!  It  is 
too  much.'^ 

Kendal  laughed.  ^^  Oh,  I  say ! "  he  exclaimed, 
jumping  up  and  bringing  a  journal  from  the  other 
side  of  the  room,  ^^if  you^re  going  in  for  art  criti- 
cism, here^s  something!  Do  you  see  the  Decade f 
The  DecadJs  article  on  the  pictures  in  last  week's 
number  fairly  brought  me  back  to  town."  He  held 
his  brush  between  his  teeth  and  found  the  place  for 
her.  "  There  !  I  don't  know  who  did  it,  and  it  was 
the  fLrst  thing  Miss  Cardiff  asked  me  when  I  put 
in  my  appearance  there  yesterday,  so  she  doesn't 
either,  though  she  writes  a  good  deal  for  the 
Decade.^' 

Kendal  had  gone  back  to  work,  and  did  not  see 
that  Elfrida  was  making  an  effort  of  self-control, 
with  a  curious  exaltation  in  her  eyes.  ^'  I — I  have 
seen  this,"  she  said  presently. 

"Capital,  isn't  it?" 

"  Miss  Cardiff  asked  you  who  wrote  it  f "  she  re- 
peated hungrily. 

"Yes 5  she  commissioned  me  to  find  out,  and  if 
he  was  respectable  to  bring  him  there.     Her  father 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  v  131 

said- 1  was  to  bring  him  anyway.  So  I  don't  pro- 
pose to  find  out.  The  Cardiffs  have  burned  their 
fingers  once  or  twice  already  handling  obscure  gen- 
ius, and  I  won't  take  the  responsibility.  But  it's 
adorably  savage,  isn't  ifc  ? " 

^^  Do  you  really  like  it  ? "  she  asked.  It  was  her 
first  taste  of  success,  and  the  savor  was  very  sweet. 
But  she  was  in  an  agony  of  desire  to  tell  him,  to  tell 
him  immediately,  but  gracefully,  delicately,  that  she 
wrote  it.  How  could  she  say  it,  and  yet  seem  un- 
eager,  indifferent  ?  But  the  occasion  must  not  slip. 
It  was  a  miserable  moment. 

'^  Immensely,"  he  replied. 

"  Then,"  she  said,  with  just  a  little  more  signifi- 
cance in  her  voice  than  she  intended,  "  you  would 
rather  not  find  out  ? " 

He  turned  and  met  her  shining  eyes.  She  smiled, 
and  he  had  an  instant  of  conviction.  ^^You,"  he 
exclaimed — ^^  you  did  it !     Really  ? " 

She  nodded,  and  he  swiftly  reflected  upon  what  he 
had  said.    "  Now  criticise  !  "  she  begged  impatiently. 

"  I  can  only  advise  you  to  follow  your  own  exam- 
ple," he  said  gravely.  ^'  It's  rather  exuberantly  cruel 
in  places." 

"  Adorably  savage,  you  said ! " 

^^I  wasn't  criticising  then.  And  I  suppose,"  he 
went  on,  with  a  shade  of  awkwardness,  "  I  ought  to 


132  A  DAUGHTER   OF  TO-DAY. 

thank  you  for  all  the  charming  things  you  put  in 
about  me." 

"  Ah !  "  she  returned,  with  a  contemptuous  pout 
and  shrug,  ''don't  say  that — it's  like  the  others. 
But/'  she  chnched  it  notwithstanding,  and  rather 
quickly,  ''will  you  take  me  to  see  Miss  Cardiff?  I 
mean,"  she  added,  noting  his  look  of  consternation, 
"will  you  ask  her  if  I  may  come!  I  forget — we 
are  in  London." 

At  this  moment  the  boy  from  below-stairs  knocked 
with  tea  and  cakes,  little  Italian  cakes  in  iced  jackets 
and  paper  boats.  "  Yes,  certainly — yes,  I  will,"  said 
Kendal,  staring  at  the  tray,  and  trying  to  remember 
when  he  had  ordered  it ;  "  but  it's  your  plain  duty 
to  make  us  both  some  tea,  and  to  eat  as  many  of 
these  pink-and-white  things  as  you  possibly  can. 
They  seem  to  have  come  down  from  heaven  for 
you." 

They  ate  and  drank  and  talked  and  were  merry 
for  quite  twenty  minutes.  Elf rida  opened  her  note- 
book and  threatened  absurdities  of  detail  for  pub- 
lication in  the  Age;  he  defied  her,  tilted  his  chair 
back,  put  his  feet  on  a  packing-box,  and  smoked  a 
cigarette.  He  placed  all  the  studies  he  had  made 
after  she  left  Paris  before  her,  and  as  she  fin- 
ished the  last  but  one  of  the  Italian  cakes,  they  dis- 
cussed these  in  the  few  words  from  which  they  both 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  133 

drew  snch  large  and  satisfying  meanings  as  do  not 
lie  at  all  in  the  vocabulary  of  outsiders.  Elf rida  felt 
the  keenest  pleasure  of  her  whole  life  in  the  knowl- 
edge that  Kendal  was  talking  to  her  more  seriously, 
more  carefully,  because  of  that  piece  of  work  in  the 
Decade;  the  consciousness  of  it  was  like  wine  to 
her,  freeing  her  thoughts  and  her  lips.  Kendal  felt, 
too,  that  the  plane  of  their  relations  was  somehow 
altered.  He  was  not  sure  that  he  liked  the  altera- 
tion. Already  she  had  grown  less  amusing,  and  the 
real  camaraderie  which  she  constantly  suggested  her 
desu'e  for  he  could  not,  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart, 
truly  tolerate  with  a  woman.  He  was  an  artist,  but 
he  was  also  an  Englishman,  and  he  told  himself  that 
he  must  not  let  her  get  into  the  way  of  coming 
there.  He  felt  an  obscure  inward  irritation,  which 
he  did  not  analyze,  that  she  should  talk  so  well  and 
be  so  charming  personally  at  the  same  time. 

Elfrida,  stiU  in  the  flush  of  her  elation,  was  put- 
ting on  her  gloves  to  go,  when  the  room  resounded 
to  a  masterful  double  rap.  The  door  almost  simul- 
taneously opened  far  enough  to  disclose  a  substan- 
tial gloved  hand  upon  the  outer  handle,  and  in  the 
tones  of  confident  aggression  which  habit  has  given 
to  many  middle-aged  ladies,  a  feminine  voice  said, 
"  May  we  come  in  ? " 

It  is  not  probable  that  Lady  Halifax  had  ever 


134  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

been  so  silently,  surely,  and  swiftly  damned  before. 
In  the  fraction  of  an  instant  that  followed  Kendal 
glanced  at  the  dismantled  tray  and  felt  that  the  sit- 
uation was  atrocious.  He  had  just  time  to  put  his 
foot  upon  his  half-smoked  cigarette,  and  to  force  a 
pretence  of  unconcern  into  his  ''  Come  in  !  Come 
in ! ''  when  the  lady  and  her  daughter  entered  with 
something  of  unceremoniousness. 

^^  Those  are  appalling  stairs — "  Lady  Halifax  ob- 
served Elfrida,  and  came  to  an  instant^s  astonished 
halt — "  of  yours,  Mr.  Kendal,  appalling !  "  Then  as 
Kendal  shook  hands  with  Miss  Halifax  she  faced 
round  upon  him  in  a  manner  which  said  definitely, 
"  Explain ! "  and  behind  her  sharp  good-natured 
little  eyes  Kendal  read,  "  If  it  is  possible !  '^  He 
looked  at  EKrida  in  the  silent  hope  that  she  would 
go,  but  she  appeared  to  have  no  such  intention.  He 
was  pushed  to  a  momentary  wish  that  she  had  got 
into  the  cupboard,  which  he  dismissed,  turning  a 
deeper  brick  color  as  it  came  and  went.  Elfrida 
was  looking  up  with  calm  inquiry,  buttoning  a  last 
glove-button. 

"  Lady  Halifax,"  he  said,  seeing  nothing  else  for 
it,  *4his  is  Miss  Bell,  from  America,  a  feUow-student 
in  Paris.  Miss  Bell  has  deserted  art  for  literature, 
though,"  he  went  on  bravely,  noting  an  immediate 
change  in  his  visitor's  expression,  and  the  fact  that 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  135 

her  acknowledgment  was  quite  as  polite  as  was 
necessary.  ^'Sli-e  has  done  me  the  honor  to  look 
me  up  this  afternoon  in  the  formidable  character 
of  a  representative  of  the  press.'' 

Lady  Halifax  looked  as  if  the  explanation  was 
quite  acceptable,  though  she  reserved  the  right  of 
criticism. 

EKrida  took  the  first  word,  smiling  prettily 
straight  into  Lady  Halifax's  face. 

"Mr.  Kendal  pretends  to  be  very  much  fright- 
ened," she  said,  with  pleasant,  modest  coolness,  and 
looked  at  Kendal. 

"  From  America,"  Lady  Halifax  repeated,  as  if  for 
the  comfort  of  the  assurance.  "I  am  sure  it  is  a 
great  advantage  nowadays  to  have  been  brought 
up  in  America."  This  was  quite  as  dehcately  as 
Lady  Halifax  could  possibly  manage  to  inform  Ken- 
dal that  she  understood  the  situation.  Miss  Halifax 
was  looking  absorbedly  at  Elfrida.  "Are  you  really 
a  journalist?"  Miss  Halifax  asked.  "How  nice !  I 
didn't  know  there  were  any  ladies  on  the  London 
press,  except,  of  com^se,  the  fashion-papers,  but  that 
isn't  quite  the  same,  is  it  ? " 

When  Miss  Halifax  said  "  How  nice ! "  it  indi- 
cated a  strong  degree  of  interest.  The  threads  of 
Miss  Halifax's  imagination  were  perpetually  twist- 
ing themselves  about  incidents  that  had  the  least 


136  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

umisualness,  and  here  was  a  most  unusual  incident, 
with  beauty  and  genius  thrown  in !  Whether  she 
could  approve  it  or  not  in  connection  with  Kendal, 
Miss  Halifax  would  decide  afterward.  She  told  her- 
seK  that  she  ought  to  be  sufficiently  devoted  to  Ken- 
dal to  be  magnanimous  about  his  friends.  Her  six 
years  of  seniority  gave  her  the  candor  to  confess 
that  she  was  devoted  to  Kendal — to  his  artistic  per- 
sonality, that  is,  and  to  his  pictures.  While  Kendal 
turned  a  still  uncomfortable  back  upon  them,  show- 
ing Lady  Halifax  what  he  had  done  since  she  had 
been  there  last — she  was  always  pitiless  in  her  de- 
mands for  results — Elfrida  talked  a  little  about  ^'  the 
press  "  to  Miss  Halifax.  Very  lightly  and  gracefully 
she  talked  about  it,  so  lightly  and  gracefully  that 
Miss  Halifax  obtained  an  impression  which  she  has 
never  lost,  that  journalism  for  a  woman  had  ideal 
attractions,  and  privately  resolved  if  ever  she  were 
thrown  upon  the  bleak  world  to  take  it  up.  As  the 
others  turned  toward  them  again  Elfrida  noticed 
the  conscience-stricken  glance  which  Kendal  gave  to 
the  tea-tray. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  with  a  sHght  enhancement  of  her 
pretty  Parisian  gurgle,  *'I  am  very  guilty — you 
must  allow  me  to  say  that  I  am  very  guilty  in- 
deed !  Mr.  Kendal  did  not  expect  to  see  me  to-day, 
and  in  his  surprise  he  permitted  me  to  eat  up  all 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  137 

the  cakes !  I  am  so  sorry !  Are  there  no  more — 
anywhere  ?  ^'  she  asked  Kendal,  mth  such  a  gay  pre- 
tence of  tragic  grief  that  they  all  laughed  together. 
She  went  away  then,  and  while  they  waited  for  a 
fresh  supply  of  tea,  Kendal  did  his  best  to  satisfy 
the  curiosity  of  the  Halifaxes  about  her.  He  was 
so  more  than  thankful  she  had  convinced  them  that 
she  was  a  person  about  whom  it  was  proper  to  be 
curious. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

It  was  Arthur  Eattray  who  generally  did  the  art 
criticism  for  the  Decade,  and  when  a  temporary  in- 
disposition interfered  between  Mr.  Rattray  and  this 
duty  early  in  May,  he  had  acquired  so  much  respect 
for  Elfrida^s  opinion  in  artistic  matters,  and  so 
much  good-will  toward  her  personally,  that  he 
wrote  and  asked  her  to  undertake  it  for  him  with 
considerable  pleasure.  This  respect  and  regard  had 
dawned  upon  him  gradually,  from  various  sources, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  Latin  Quarter  article 
had  not  been  a  particular  success.  That,  to  do  Miss 
Bell  justice,  as  Mr.  Rattray  said  in  mentioning  the 
matter  to  the  editor-in-chief,  was  not  so  much  the 
fault  of  the  article  as  the  fault  of  their  public.  Miss 
Bell  wrote  the  graphic  naked  truth  about  the  Latin 
Quarter.  Even  after  Rattray  had  sent  her  copy 
back  to  be  amended  for  the  third  time,  she  did  not 
seem  able  to  realize  that  their  public  wouldn^t  stand 
unimis  lihres  when  not  served  up  with  a  moral  pur- 
pose— that  no  artistic  apology  for  them  would  do. 
In  the  end,  therefore,  Rattray  was  obliged  to  muti- 
138 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  139 

late  the  article  himself,  and  to  neutralize  it  here  and 
there.  He  was  justified  in  taking  the  trouble,  for  it 
was  matter  they  wanted,  on  account  of  some  expen- 
sive drawings  of  the  locality  that  had  been  in  hand 
a  long  time.  Even  then  the  editor-in-chief  had 
grumbled  at  its  "tone,'^  though  the  wrath  of  the 
editor-in-chief  was  nothing  to  Miss  Bellas.  Mr.  Rat- 
tray could  not  remember  ever  having  had  before  a 
conversation  with  a  contributor  which  approached 
in  liveliness  or  interest  the  one  he  sustained  with 
Miss  Bell  the  day  after  her  copy  appeared.  If 
he  imparted  some  ideas  of  expediency,  he  received 
some  of  obHgation  to  artistic  truth,  which  he  hence- 
forth associated  with  Elfrida^s  expressive  eyes  and 
what  he  called  her  foreign  accent.  On  the  whole, 
therefore,  the  conversation  was  agreeable,  and  it  left 
him  with  the  impression  that  Miss  Bell,  under  proper 
guidance,  could  very  possibly  do  some  fresh  uncon- 
ventional work  for  the  Age.  Freshness  and  un- 
conventionality  for  the  Age  was  what  Mr.  Rattray 
sought  as  they  seek  the  jewel  in  the  serpent's  head 
in  the  far  East.  He  talked  to  the  editor-in-chief 
about  it,  mentioning  the  increasing  lot  of  things  con- 
cerning women  that  had  to  be  touched,  which  only  a 
woman  could  treat  ^^from  the  inside,"  and  the 
editor-in-chief  agreed  sulkily,  because  experience 
told  him  it  was  best  to  agree  with  Mr.  Rattray,  that 


140  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

Miss  Bell  should  be  taken  on  the  staff  on  trial,  at 
two  pounds  a  week.  ^'  But  the  paper  doesn't  want 
a  female  Zola/'  he  growled  j  ^^  you  can  tell  her  that." 
Rattray  did  not  tell  her  precisely  that,  but  he  ex- 
plained the  situation  so  that  she  quite  understood  it, 
the  next  afternoon  when  he  called  to  talk  the  matter 
over  with  her.  He  could  not  ask  her  to  come  to  the 
office  to  discuss  it,  he  said,  they  were  so  full  up,  they 
had  really  no  place  to  receive  a  lady.  And  he  apol- 
ogized for  his  hat,  which  was  not  a  silk  one,  in  the 
uncertain  way  of  a  man  who  has  heard  of  the  pro- 
prieties in  these  things.  She  made  him  tea  with 
her  samovar,  and  she  talked  to  him  about  Parisian 
journalism  and  the  Parisian  stage  in  a  way  that 
made  her  a  further  discovery  to  him  j  and  his  mind, 
hitherto  wholly  devoted  to  the  service  of  the  Blus- 
trated  Age,  received  an  impetus  in  a  new  direction. 
When  he  had  gone  Elfrida  laughed  a  little,  silently, 
thinking  first  of  this,  for  it  was  quite  plain  to  her. 
Then,  contrasting  what  the  Age  wanted  her  to  write 
with  her  ideal  of  journalistic  literature,  she  stated 
to  Buddha  that  it  was  "  worse  than  panadeP  "  But 
it  means  two  pounds  a  week,  Buddha,"  she  said ; 
^^  fifty  francs !  Do  you  understand  that  f  It  means 
that  we  shall  be  able  to  stay  here,  in  the  world — 
that  I  shall  not  be  obliged  to  take  you  to  Sparta. 
You  don't  know,  Buddha,  how  you  would  loathe 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  141 

Sparta !  But  understand,  it  is  at  that  price  that  we 
are  going  to  despise  ourselves  for  a  wliile — not  for 
the  two  pounds  !  " 

And  next  day  she  was  sent  to  report  a  distri- 
bution of  diplomas  to  graduating  nurses  by  the 
Princess  of  Wales. 

Buddha  was  not  an  adequate  confidant.  Elfrida 
found  him  capable  of  absorbing  her  emotions  in- 
definitely, but  his  still  smile  was  not  always  respon- 
sive enough,  so  she  made  a  Httle  feast,  and  asked 
Golightly  Ticke  to  tea,  the  Sunday  after  the  Satur- 
day that  made  her  a  salaried  member  of  the  London 
press.  Golightly^s  felicitations  were  sincere  and 
spasmodically  sympathetic,  but  he  found  it  impos- 
sible to  conceal  the  fact  that  of  late  the  world  had 
not  smiled  equally  upon  him.  In  spite  of  the  dra- 
matic fervor  with  which  the  part  of  James  Jones,  a 
soHcitor's  clerk,  had  been  rendered  every  evening,  the 
piece  at  the  Princess's  had  to  come  to  an  unprofit- 
able close,  the  theatre  had  been  leased  to  an  Amer- 
ican company,  PhylHs  had  gone  to  the  provinces,  and 
Mr.  Ticke's  abilities  were  at  the  service  of  chance. 
By  the  time  he  had  reached  his  second  cigarette  he 
was  so  sunk  in  cynicism  that  EKrida  applied  herself 
delicately  to  discover  these  facts.  Golightly  made 
an  elaborate  effort  to  put  her  off.     He  threw  his 

head  back  in  his  chair  and  watched  the  faint  rings 
10 


142  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

of  his  cigarette  curling  into  inclistinguishability 
against  the  ceiling,  and  said  he  was  only  the  dnst 
that  blew  about  the  narrow  streets  of  the  world,  and 
why  should  she  care  to  know  which  way  the  wind 
took  him  !  Lighting  his  third,  he  said,  as  bitterly 
as  that  engrossment  would  permit  him,  that  the 
sooner — puff — it  was  over — puff — the  sooner — puff 
— to  sleep ;  and  when  the  lighting  was  quite  satisfac- 
torily accomplished  he  laughed  harshly.  "I  shall 
think,"  said  Elfrida  earnestly,  ^^if  you  do  not  tell 
me  how  things  are  with  you,  since  they  are  bad, 
that  you  are  not  a  true  Bohemian — that  you  have 
scruples." 

"  You  know  better — at  least  I  hope  you  do — than 
to  charge  me  with  that,"  Golightly  returned,  with  an 
inflection  full  of  reproachful  meaning.  ^'  I — I  di-ank 
myself  to  sleep  last  night.  Miss  Bell.  When  the 
candle  flickered  out  I  thought  that  it  was  all  over — 
curious  sensation.  This  morning,"  he  added,  look- 
ing through  his  half -closed  eyelashes  with  sardonic 
stage  effect,  ^^  I  wished  it  had  been." 

^'Tell  me,"  Elfrida  insisted  gently  j  and  looking 
attentively  at  his  long,  thin  fingers  Mr.  Ticke  then 
told  her.  He  told  her  tersely,  it  did  not  take  long ; 
and  in  the  end  he  doubled  up  his  hand  and  pulled  a 
crumpled  cuff  down  over  it.  ^^  To  me,"  he  said,  ^^  a 
thing  like  that  represents  the  worst  of  it.    When  I 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  143 

look  at  that  I  feel  capable  of  crime.  I  don^t  know 
whether  you^ll  understand^  but  the  consideration  of 
what  my  finer  self  suffers  through  sordidness  of  this 
sort  sometimes  makes  me  think  that  to  rob  a  bank 
would  be  an  act  of  virtue." 

^'  I  understand/^  said  Elfrida. 

"  Washerwomen  as  a  class  are  caUous.  I  suppose 
the  alkaHes  they  use  finally  penetrate  to  their  souls. 
I  said  to  mine  last  Thursday,  ^  But  I  must  be  clean, 
Mrs.  Binkley ! '  and  the  creature  replied,  ^  I  don't  see 
at  all,  Mr.  Ticks ' — she  has  an  odious  habit  of  calling 
me  Mr.  Ticks — ^  why  you  shouldn't  go  dirty  occa- 
sional.'   She  seemed  to  think  she  had  made  a  joke ! '' 

^^  They  live  to  be  paid/'  Elfrida  said,  with  hard 
philosophy,  and  then  she  questioned  him  delicately 
about  his  play.  Could  she  induce  him  to  show  it  to 
her,  some  day?  Her  opinion  was  worth  nothing 
really — oh  no,  absolutely  nothing — but  it  would  be 
a  pleasure  if  Golightly  were  sure  he  didn't  mind. 

Golightly  found  a  difficulty  in  selecting  phrases 
repressive  enough  to  be  artistic,  in  which  to  teU  her 
that  he  would  be  delighted. 

When  Mr.  Ticke  came  in  that  evening  he  found 
upon  his  dressing-table  a  thick  square  envelope  ad- 
dressed to  him  in  Elfrida's  suggestive  hand.  With 
his  fingers  and  thumb  he  immediately  detected  a 
round  hardness  in  one  corner,  and  he  took  some 


144  A  DAUGHTER  OP  TO-DAY. 

pains  to  open  the  letter  so  that  nothing  should  fall 
out.  He  postponed  the  pleasure  of  reading  it  until 
he  had  carefully  extracted  the  two  ten-shilling 
pieces,  divested  them  of  their  bits  of  tissue-paper, 
and  put  them  in  his  waistcoat  pocket.  Then  he 
held  the  letter  nearer  to  the  candle  and  read:  ^'I 
have  thought  about  this  for  a  whole  hour.  You 
must  believe,  please,  that  it  is  no  vulgar  impulse. 
I  acknowledge  it  to  be  a  very  serious  liberty,  and  in 
taking  it  I  rely  upon  not  having  misinterpreted  the 
scope  of  the  freedom  which  exists  between  us.  In 
Bohemia — our  country — one  may  share  one^s  luck 
with  a  friend,  n^est  ce  pas  f  I  will  not  ask  to  be  for- 
given." 

"  Nice  girl,"  said  Mr.  Golightly  Ticke,  taking  off 
his  boots.  He  went  to  bed  rather  resentfully  con- 
scious of  the  difference  there  was  in  the  benefac- 
tions of  Miss  Phyllis  Fane. 

Shortly  after  this  Mr.  Tickets  own  luck  mended, 
and  on  two  different  occasions  Elf rida  found  a  bunch 
of  daffodils  outside  her  door  in  the  morning,  that 
made  a  mute  and  graceful  acknowledgment  of  the 
financial  bond  Mr.  Ticke  did  not  dream  of  offering  to 
materialize  in  any  other  way.  He  felt  his  gratitude 
finely ;  it  suggested  to  him  a  number  of  httle  direc- 
tions in  which  he  could  make  himself  useful  to  Miss 
Bell,  putting  aside  entirely  the  question  of  repayment. 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  145 

One  of  these  resolved  itself  into  an  invitation  from 
the  Arcadia  Club,  of  which  Mr.  Ticke  was  a  mem- 
ber in  impressive  arrears,  to  their  monthly  soiree  in 
the  Landscapists^  rooms  in  Bond  Street.  The  Arca- 
dia Club,  had  the  most  liberal  scope  of  any  in  Lon- 
don, he  told  Elfrida,  and  included  the  most  inter- 
esting people.  Painters  belonged  to  it,  and  sculpt- 
ors, actors,  novelists,  musicians,  journalists,  perhaps 
above  all,  journalists.  A  great  many  ladies  were 
members,  Elfrida  would  see,  and  they  were  always 
glad  to  welcome  a  new  personality.  The  club  recog- 
nized how  the  world  had  run  to  types,  and  how 
scarce  and  valuable  personalities  were  in  conse- 
quence. It  was  not  a  particularly  conventional 
club,  but  he  would  arrange  that,  if  Elfrida  would 
accept  his  escort.  Mrs.  Tommy  Morrow  should 
meet  her  in  the  dressing-room,  as  a  concession  to 
the  prejudices  of  society. 

^^  Mrs.  Tommy  is  a  brilliant  woman  in  her  way," 
Mr.  Ticke  added ;  ^^  she  edits  the  Boudoir — I  might 
say  she  created  the  Boudoir.  They  call  her  the 
Queen  of  Arcadia.    She  has  a  great  deal  of  manner." 

^^What  does  Mr.  Tommy  Morrow  do?"  Elfrida 
asked.  But  Golightly  could  not  inform  her  as  to 
Mr.  Tommy  Morrow's  occupation. 

The  rooms  were  half  full  when  they  arrived,  and 
as  the  man  in  livery  announced  them,  ^^  Mrs.  Mor- 


146  A  DAUGHTER  OP  TO-DAY, 

row,  Miss  Bell,  and  Mr.  Golightly  Ticke,"  it  seemed 
to  Elf rida  that  everybody  turned  simultaneously  to 
look.  There  was  nobody  to  receive  them  j  the  man 
in  livery  published  them,  as  it  were,  to  the  company, 
which  she  felt  to  be  a  more  effective  mode  of  enter- 
ing society,  when  it  was  the  society  of  the  arts.  She 
could  not  possibly  help  being  aware  that  a  great 
many  people  were  looking  in  her  direction  over 
Mrs.  Tommy  Morrow's  shoulder.  Presently  it 
became  obvious  that  Mrs.  Tommy  Morrow  was 
also  aware  of  it.  The  shoulder  was  a  very  femi- 
nine shoulder,  with  long  lines  curving  forward 
into  the  sulphur-colored  gown  that  met  them 
not  too  prematurely.  Mrs.  Tommy  Morrow  in- 
sisted upon  her  shoulder,  and  upon  her  neck, 
which  was  short  behind  but  long  in  front  in 
effect,  and  curved  up  to  a  chin  which  was  somewhat 
too  persistently  thrust  forward.  Mrs.  Tommy  had 
a  pretty  face  with  an  imperious  expression.  ^'  Just 
the  face,"  as  Golightly  murmured  to  EKrida,  ^^to 
run  the  Boudoir^  She  seemed  to  know  everybody, 
bowed  right  and  left  with  varying  degrees  of  cor- 
diality, and  said  sharply,  ''No  shop  to-night !  "  to  a 
thin  young  woman  in  a  high  black  silk,  who  came 
up  to  her  exclaiming,  "  Oh,  Mrs.  Morrow,  that  func- 
tion at  Sandringham  has  been  postponed."  Pres- 
ently Mrs.  Morrow's  royal  progress  was  interrupted 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  147 

by  a  gentleman  who  wished  to  present  Signor  Geor- 
giadi,  '^  the  star  of  the  evening,"  Golightly  said  hur- 
riedly to  Elfrida.  Mrs.  Morrow  was  very  gracious, 
but  the  little  fat  Italian  with  the  long  hair  and  the 
drooping  eyelids  was  atrociously  embarrassed  to  re- 
spond to  her  compliments  in  English.  He  strug- 
gled so  violently  that  Mrs.  Morrow  began  to  smile 
with  a  compassionate  patronage  which  turned  him 
a  distressing  teiTa-cotta.  Elfrida  looked  on  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  then,  as  one  of  the  group,  she  said 
quietly  in  French,  "  And  Italian  opera  in  England, 
how  do  you  find  it,  Signor  ? " 

The  Italian  thanked  her  with  every  feature  of  his 
expressive  countenance,  and  burst  with  polite  enthu- 
siasm into  his  opinion  of  the  Albert  Hall  concerts. 
When  he  discovered  Elfrida  to  be  an  American,  and 
therefore  not  specially  susceptible  to  praise  of  Eng- 
lish classical  interpretations,  he  allowed  himself  to 
become  critical,  and  their  talk  increased  in  liveliness 
and  amiability. 

Mrs.  Morrow  listened  with  an  appreciative  air 
for  a  few  minutes,  playing  with  her  fan  j  then  she 
turned  to  Mr.  Ticke. 

^^ Golightly,"  she  said  acidly,  "I  am  dying  of 
thirst.  You  shall  take  me  to  the  refreshment- 
table." 

So  the  star  of  the  evening  was  abandoned  to 


148  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

Elfrida,  and  finding  in  her  a  refuge  from  the 
dreadful  English  tongue,  he  clung  to  her.  She 
was  so  occupied  with  him  in  this  character 
that  almost  all  the  other  distinguished  people 
who  attended  the  soiree  of  the  Arcadia  Club 
escaped  her.  Golightly  asked  her  reproachfully 
afterward  how  he  could  possibly  have  pointed  them 
out  to  her,  absorbed  as  she  was — and  some  of  them 
would  have  been  so  pleased  to  be  introduced  to  her ! 
She  met  a  few  notwithstanding ;  they  were  chiefly 
rather  elderly  unmarried  ladies,  who  immediately 
mentioned  to  her  the  paper  they  were  connected 
with,  and  one  or  two  of  them,  learning  that  she  was 
a  newcomer,  kindly  gave  her  their  cards,  and  asked 
her  to  come  and  see  them  any  second  Tuesday. 
They  had  indefinite  and  primitive  ideas  of  doing 
their  hair,  and  they  were  certainly  mal  tournee ;  but 
Elfrida  saw  that  she  made  an  impression  on  them — 
that  they  would  remember  her  and  talk  of  her ;  and 
seeing  that,  other  things  became  less  noteworthy. 
She  felt  that  these  ladies  were  more  or  less  emanci- 
pated, on  easy  terms  with  the  facts  of  life,  free  from 
the  prejudices  that  tied  the  souls  of  people  she  saw 
shopping  at  the  Stores,  for  instance.  That,  and  a 
familiarity  with  the  exigencies  of  copy  at  short 
notice,  was  discernible  in  the  way  they  talked  and 
looked  about  them,  and  the  readiness  with  which 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  149 

they  produced  a  pencil  to  write  the  second  Tuesday 
on  their  cards.  Almost  every  lady  suggested  that 
she  might  have  decorated  the  staff  of  her  journal 
an  appreciable  number  of  years,  if  that  supposition 
had  not  been  forbidden  by  the  fact  that  the  feminine 
element  in  journalism  is  of  comparatively  recent 
introduction.  Elf  rida  wondered  what  they  occupied 
themselves  with  before.  It  did  not  detract  from 
her  sense  of  the  success  of  the  evening — Golightly 
Ticke  went  about  telling  everybody  that  she  was  the 
new  American  wi'iter  on  the  Age — to  feel  herself 
altogether  the  youngest  person  present,  and  mani- 
festly the  most  effectively  dressed,  in  her  cloudy  black 
net  and  daffodils.  Her  spirits  rose  with  a  keen 
instinct  that  assured  her  she  would  win,  if  it  were 
only  a  matter  of  a  race  with  them.  She  had  never 
had  the  feeling,  in  any  security,  before  j  it  lifted  her 
and  carried  her  on  in  a  wave  of  exhilaration.  Go- 
lightly  Ticke,  taking  her  in  turn  to  the  buffet  for 
lemonade  and  a  sandwich,  told  her  that  he  knew  she 
would  enjoy  it — she  must  be  enjoying  it,  she  looked 
in  such  capital  form.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had 
been  near  the  buffet ;  so  she  had  not  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  observing  how  important  a  feature  the 
lemonade  and  sandwiches  formed  in  the  entertain- 
ment of  the  evening — how  persistently  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  arts,  with  varying  numbers  of  but- 


150  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

tons  off  their  gloves,  returned  to  this  light  refresh- 
ment. 

Elf  rida  thanked  Mrs.  Tommy  Morrow  very  sweetly 
for  her  chaperonage  in  the  cloak-room  when  the 
hour  of  departure  came.  '^Well/'  said  Mrs.  Mor- 
row, "you  can  say  you  have  seen  a  characteristic 
London  literary  gathering." 

"  Yes,  thanks  !  "  said  Elf  rida ;  and  then,  looking 
about  her  for  a  commonplace,  "How  much  taller 
the  women  seem  to  be  than  the  men,"  she  remarked. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Mrs.  Tommy  Morrow,  "  Du  Man- 
ner drew  attention  to  that  in  Ftmch,  some  time 
ago." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Janet  Cardiff,  running  downstairs  to  the  draw- 
ing-room from  the  top  story  of  the  house  in  Ken- 
sington Square  with  the  knowledge  that  a  new 
American  girl,  who  wrote  very  clever  things  about 
pictures,  awaited  her  there,  tried  to  remember  just 
what  sort  of  description  John  Kendal  had  given  of 
her  visitor.  Her  recollection  was  vague  as  to  detail ; 
she  could  not  anticipate  a  single  point  with  cer- 
tainty, perhaps  because  she  had  not  paid  particular 
attention  at  the  time.  She  had  been  given  a  distinct 
impression  that  she  might  expect  to  be  interested, 
however,  which  accounted  for  her  running  down- 
stairs. Nothing  hastened  Janet  Cardiff^s  footsteps 
more  than  the  prospect  of  anybody  interesting. 
She  and  her  father  declared  that  it  was  their  great 
misfortune  to  be  thoroughly  respectable,  it  cut  them 
off  from  so  much.  It  was  in  particular  the  girPs 
complaint  against  their  life  that  humanity  as  they 
knew  it  was  rather  a  neutral-tinted,  carefully  woven 
fabric  too  largely  "  machine-made,"  as  she  told  her- 
self, with  a  discontent  that  the  various  Fellows  of 
151 


152  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

the  Royal  Society  and  members  of  the  Athenaeum 
Club,  with  whom  the  Cardiffs  were  in  the  habit  of 
dining,  could  hardly  have  thought  themselves  capa- 
ble of  inspiring.  It  seemed  to  Janet  that  nobody 
crossed  their  path  until  his  or  her  reputation  was 
made,  and  that  by  the  time  people  had  made  their 
reputations  they  succumbed  to  them,  and  became 
uninteresting. 

She  told  herseK  at  once  that  nothing  Kendal 
could  have  said  would  have  prepared  her  for  this 
American,  and  that  certainly  nothing  she  had  seen 
or  read  of  other  Americans  did.  Elfrida  was  stand- 
ing beside  the  open  window  looking  out.  As  Janet 
came  in  a  breeze  wavered  through  and  lifted  the 
fluffy  hair  about  her  visitor^s  forehead,  and  the  scent 
of  the  growing  things  in  the  little  square  came  with  it 
into  the  room.  She  turned  slowly,  with  grave  wide 
eyes  and  a  plaintive  indrawing  of  her  pretty  under- 
lip,  and  held  out  three  full-blown  gracious  Marechal 
Neil  roses  on  long  slender  stems.  "  I  have  brought 
you  these,"  she  said,  with  a  charming  effect  of  sim- 
plicity, ^'  to  make  me  welcome.  There  was  no  rea- 
son, none  whatever,  why  I  should  be  welcome,  so 
I  made  one.     You  wiU  not  be  angry — perhaps  ? " 

Janet  banished  her  conventional  "Very  glad  to 
see  you  "  instantly.  She  took  the  roses  with  a  quick 
thrill  of  pleasure.     Afterward  she  told  herseK  that 


A   DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  153 

she  was  not  touched^  not  in  the  least,  she  did  not 
quite  know  why ;  but  she  freely  acknowledged  that 
she  was  more  than  amused. 

^'  How  charming  of  you  ! ''  she  said.  ^'  But  I  have 
to  thank  you  for  coming  as  well.  Now  let  us  shake 
hands,  or  we  shan^t  feel  properly  acquainted."  Janet 
detected  a  half-tone  of  patronage  in  her  voice,  and 
fell  into  a  rage  with  herself  because  of  it.  She 
looked  at  Elfrida  sharply  to  note  a  possible  resent- 
ment, but  there  was  none.  If  she  had  looked  a  trifle 
more  sharply  she  might  have  observed  a  subtler 
patronage  in  the  little  smile  her  visitor  received  this 
commonplace  with ;  but,  like  the  other,  she  was  too 
much  occupied  in  considering  her  personal  effect. 
She  had  become  suddenly  desirous  that  it  should  be 
a  good  one. 

Elfrida  went  on  in  the  personal  key.  "  I  suppose 
you  are  very  tii'ed  of  hearing  such  things,"  she  said, 
''but  I  owe  you  so  much." 

This  was  not  quite  justifiable,  for  Miss  Cardiff 
was  only  a  successful  writer  in  the  magazines,  whose 
name  was  very  familiar  to  other  people  who  wrote  in 
them,  and  had  a  pleasant  association  for  the  reading 
public.  It  was  by  no  means  fame  ;  she  would  have 
been  the  first  to  laugh  at  the  magniloquence  of  the 
word  in  any  personal  connection.  For  her  father  she 
would  accept  a  measure  of  it,  and  only  deplored  that 


154  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

the  lack  of  public  interest  in  Persian  made  the  meas- 
ure small.  She  had  never  confessed  to  a  soul  how 
largely  she  herself  was  unacquainted  with  his  books, 
and  how  considerably  her  knowledge  of  her  father's 
specialty  was  covered  by  the  opinion  that  Persian 
was  a  very  decorative  character.  She  could  not  let 
Elfrida  suppose  that  she  thought  this  anything  but 
a  politeness. 

"  Oh,  thanks — ^impossible !  "  she  cried  gaily.  "  In- 
deed, I  assure  you  it  is  months  since  I  heard  any- 
thing so  agreeable,"  which  was  also  a  departure  from 
the  strictest  verity. 

^^  But  truly !  I'm  afraid  I  am  very  clumsy,"  Elfrida 
added,  with  a  pretty  dignity,  ^^  but  I  should  like  to 
assure  you  of  that." 

^^  If  you  have  allowed  me  to  amuse  you  now  and 
then  for  half  an  hour  it  has  been  very  good  of  you," 
Janet  returned,  looking  at  Miss  Bell  with  rather 
more  curious  interest  than  she  thought  it  polite  to 
show.  It  began  to  seem  to  her,  however,  that  the 
conventional  side  of  the  occasion  was  not  obvious 
from  any  point  of  view.  ^*  You  are  an  American, 
aren't  you  ? "  she  asked.  "  Mr.  Kendal  told  me  so. 
I  suppose  one  oughtn't  to  say  that  one  would  like 
to  be  an  American.  But  you  have  such  a  pull !  I 
know  I  should  like  living  there." 

Elfrida  gave  herself  the  effect  of  considering  the 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  155 

matter  earnestly.  It  flitted,  really,  over  the  surface 
of  her  mind,  which  was  engaged  in  absorbing  Janet 
and  the  room,  and  the  situation. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  better  to  be  born  in  America  than 
in — most  places,"  she  said,  with  a  half  glance  at  the 
prim  square  outside.  ^^  It  gives  you  a  point  of  view 
that  is — splendid.'^  In  hesitating  this  way  before  her 
adjectives,  she  always  made  her  listeners  doubly  at- 
tentive to  what  she  had  to  say.  ^' And  having  been 
deprived  of  so  much  that  you  'have  over  here,  we 
like  it  better,  of  course,  when  we  get  it,  than  you 
do.  But  nobody  would  live  in  constant  depriva- 
tion. No,  you  wouldn^t  like  living  there.  Except 
in  New  York,  and,  oh,  I  should  say  Santa  Barbara, 
and  New  Orleans  perhaps,  the  life  over  there  is — in- 
fernal." 

^^  You  are  like  a  shower-bath,"  said  Janet  to  her- 
self; but  the  shower-bath  had  no  palpable  effect 
upon  her.  "Wliat  have  we  that  is  so  important 
that  you  haven't  got?"  she  asked. 

"  Quantities  of  things."  Elfrida  hesitated,  not  ab- 
solutely sure  of  the  wisdom  of  her  example.  Then 
she  ventured  it.  "  The  picturesqueness  of  society — 
your  duchesses  and  your  women  in  the  green-gro- 
cers' shops."     It  was  not  wise,  she  saw  instantly. 

"Really?  It  is  so  difficult  to  understand  that 
duchesses  are  interesting — out  of  novels;  and  the 


156  A   DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

green-grocers'  wives  are  a  good  deal  alike,  too,  aren't 
theyr' 

"It's  the  contrast;  you  see  our  duchesses  were 
gr^en-grocers'  wives  the  day  before  yesterday,  and 
our  green-grocers'  wives  subscribe  to  the  magazines. 
It's  all  mixed  up,  and  there  are  no  high  lights  any- 
where. You  move  before  us  in  a  sort  of  panoramic 
pageant,"  Elfrida  went  on,  determined  to  redeem 
her  point,  "  with  your  Queen  and  Empress  of  India — 
she  ought  to  be  riding  on  an  elephant,  oughtn't  she  ? 
— in  front,  and  all  your  princes  and  nobles  with  their 
swords  drawn  to  protect  her.  Then  your  Upper 
Classes  and  your  Upper  Middle  Classes  walking 
stiffly  two  and  two ;  and  then  your  Lower  Middle 
Classes  with  large  families,  dropping  their  h's ;  and 
then  your  hideous  people  from  the  slums.  And 
besides,"  she  added,  with  prettily  repressed  enthusi- 
asm, "there  is  the  shadowy  procession  of  aU  the 
people  that  have  gone  before,  and  we  can  see  that 
you  are  a  good  deal  like  them,  though  they  are  more 
interesting  still.  It  is  very  pictorial."  She  stopped 
suddenly  and  consciously,  as  if  she  had  said  too 
much,  and  Janet  felt  that  she  was  suggestively  apol- 
ogized to. 

"  Doesn't  the  phenomenal  squash  make  up  for  aU 
that?"  she    asked.     "It  would  to  me.     I'm  dying 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  157 

to  see  the  phenomenal  squash,  and  the  prodigious 
water-melon,  and — " 

"And  the  faUs  of  Niagara?"  Elfrida  put  in, with 
the  faintest  turning  down  of  the  corners  of  her 
mouth.  "  I'm  afraid  our  wonders  are  chiefly  natu- 
ral, and  largely  vegetable,  as  you  say." 

"But  they  are  wonders.  Everything  here  has 
been  measured  so  many  times.  Besides,  haven't 
you  got  the  elevated  railway,  and  a  statue  of  Lib- 
erty, and  the  "  Jeanne  d'Arc,"  and  W.  D.  Howells ! 
To  say  nothing  of  a  whole  string  of  poets — good 
gray  poets  that  wear  beards  and  laurels,  and  fanciful 
young  ones  that  dance  in  garlands  on  the  back  pages 
of  the  Century.  Oh,  I  know  them  all,  the  dear 
things !  And  Pm  quite  sure  their  ideas  are  indig- 
enous to  the  soil." 

Elfrida  let  her  eyes  tell  her  appreciation,  and  also 
the  fact  that  she  would  take  courage  now,  she  was 
gaining  confidence.  "  Pm  glad  you  like  them,"  she 
said.  "  Howells  would  do  if  he  would  stop  writing 
about  virtuous  sewing-girls,  and  give  us  some  real 
romans  psycJiologiques,  But  he  is  too  much  afraid 
of  soiling  his  hands,  that  monsieur  j  his  Mtes  hu- 
maines  are  always  conventionalized,  and  generally 
come  out  at  the  end  wearing  the  halo  of  the  re- 
deemed.    He  always  reminds  me  of  Cruikshank's 

11 


158  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

picture  of  the  ghost  beiDg  put  out  by  the  ex- 
tinguisher in  the  *  Christmas  Carol/  His  genius  is 
the  ghost,  and  conventionality  is  the  extinguisher. 
But  it  is  genius,  so  it^s  a  pity.'' 

"It  seems  to  me  that  Ho  wells  deals  honestly  with 
his  materials/'  Janet  said,  instinctively  stilling  the 
jar  of  Elfrida's  regardless  note.  She  was  so  pretty, 
this  new  creature,  and  she  had  such  original  ways. 
Janet  must  let  her  talk  about  romans  psychoIogiqueSy 
or  worse  things,  if  she  wanted  to.  "  To  me  he  has 
a  tremendous  appearance  of  sincerity,  psychological 
and  other.  But  do  you  know,  I  don't  think  the 
English  or  American  people  are  exactly  calculated 
to  reward  the  sort  of  vivisection  you  mean.  The 
Mte  is  too  conscious  of  his  moral  fibre  when  he's 
respectable,  and  when  he  isn't  respectable  he  doesn't 
commit  picturesque  crimes,  he  steals  and  boozes.  I 
dare  say  he's  bestial  enough,  but  pure  unrelieved 
filth  can't  be  transmuted  into  literature,  and  as  a 
people  we're  perfectly  devoid  of  that  extraordinary 
artistic  nature  that  it  makes  such  a  foil  for  in  the 
Latins.  That  is  really  the  only  excuse  the  natural- 
ists have." 

"  Excuse ! "  Elfrida  repeated,  with  a  bewildered 
look.     "  You  had  Wainwright,"  she  added  hastily. 

"  N'oiis  nous  en  felicitons  !  We've  got  him  still — in 
Madame  Tussaud's,"  cried  Janet.     "  He  poisoned  for 


A   DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  159 

money  in  cold  blood — not  exactly  an  artistic  vice ! 
Oh,  he  won^t  do  !  ^^ — she  laughed  triumphantly — '^  if 
he  did  write  charming  things  about  the  Renais- 
sance !  Besides,  he  illustrates  my  case  j  among  us 
he  was  a  phenomenon,  like  the  elephant-headed  man. 
Phenomena  are  for  the  scientists.  You  don't  mean 
to  tell  me  that  any  literature  that  pretends  to  call 
itself  artistic  has  a  right  to  touch  them." 

By  this  time  they  had  absolutely  forgotten  that 
up  to  twenty  minutes  ago  they  had  never  seen 
each  other  before.  Already  they  had  mutely  and 
unconsciously  begun  to  rejoice  that  they  had 
come  together ;  already  each  of  them  promised  her- 
self the  exploration  of  the  other's  nature,  with 
the  preliminary  idea  that  it  would  be  a  satisfy- 
ing, at  least  an  interesting  process.  The  im- 
pulse made  Elfrida  almost  natural,  and  Janet  per- 
ceived this  with  quick  self -congratulation.  Already 
she  had  made  up  her  mind  that  this  manner  was  a 
pretty  mask  which  it  would  be  her  business  to  re- 
move. 

"  But — ^but  you're  not  in  it !  "  Elfrida  returned. 
^^  Pardon  me,  but  you're  not  there,  you  know.  Art 
has  no  ideal  but  truth,  and  to  conventionalize  truth 
is  to  damn  it.  In  the  most  commonplace  material 
there  is  always  truth,  but  here  they  conventionalize 
it  out  of  aU—" 


160  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

"  Oh,"  cried  Janet,  "  we're  a  conventional  people, 
I  assure  you,  Miss  Bell,  and  so  are  you,  for  how 
could  you  change  your  spots  in  a  hundred  years? 
The  material  here  is  conventional.  Daudet  couldn't 
have  written  of  us.  Our  wicked  women  are  too  in- 
glorious.    Now  Sapho — ^^ 

Miss  Cardiff  stopped  at  the  ringing  of  the  door- 
bell. "  Oh,"  she  said,  '^  here  is  my  father.  You  will 
let  me  give  you  a  cup  of  tea  now,  won't  you  ? "  The 
maid  was  bringing  in  the  tray.  "  I  should  like  you 
to  meet  my  father." 

Lawrence  Cardiff's  grasp  was  on  the  door-handle 
almost  as  she  spoke.  Seeing  Elfrida,  he  involunta- 
rily put  up  his  hand  to  settle  the  back  of  his  coat 
collar — these  little  middle-aged  ways  were  growing 
upon,  him — and  shook  hands  with  her  as  Janet  in- 
troduced them,  with  that  coui^tly  impenetrable  agree- 
ableness  that  always  provoked  curiosity  about  him 
in  strangers,  and  often  led  to  his  being  taken  for 
somebody  more  important  than  he  was,  usually 
somebody  in  politics.  Elfrida  saw  that  he  was  quite 
different  from  her  conception  of  a  university  pro- 
fessor with  a  reputation  in  Persian  and  a  clever 
daughter  of  twenty-four.  He  was  straight  and 
slender  for  one  thing ;  he  had  gay  inquiring  eyes, 
and  fair  hair  just  beginning  to  show  gray  where  the 
ends  were  brushed  back ;  and  Elfrida  immediately 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  161 

became  aware  that  his  features  were  as  modern  and 
as  mobile  as  possible.  She  had  a  moment  of  indeci- 
sion and  surprise — ^indecision  as  to  the  most  effect- 
ive way  of  presenting  herself,  and  surprise  that  it 
should  be  necessary  to  decide  upon  a  way.  It 
had  never  occurred  to  her  that  a  gentleman  who 
had  won  scientific  celebrity  by  digging  about  Arabic 
roots,  and  who  had  contributed  a  daughter  like  Janet 
to  the  popular  magazines,  could  claim  anything  of 
her  beyond  a  highly  respectful  consideration.  In 
moments  when  she  hoped  to  know  the  Cardiffs  well 
she  had  pictured  herself  doing  little  graceful  acts  of 
politeness  toward  this  paternal  person — acts  con- 
nected with  his  spectacles,  his  Athenian j  his  foot- 
stool. But  apparently  she  had  to  meet  a  knight 
and  not  a  pawn. 

She  was  hardly  aware  of  taking  counsel  with  her- 
self }  and  the  way  she  abandoned  her  hesitations,  and 
what  Janet  was  inwardly  calling  her  Burne-Jones- 
isms,  had  all  the  effect  of  an  access  of  unconscious- 
ness. Janet  Cardiff  watched  it  with  delight  "  But 
why,"  she  asked  herself  in  wonder,  "  should. she  have 
been  so  affected — if  it  was  affectation — with  me  f  " 
She  would  decide  whether  it  was  or  was  not  after- 
ward, she  thought.  Meanwhile  she  was  glad  her 
father  had  thought  of  saying  something  nice  about 
the  art  criticism  in  the  Decade;  he  was  putting  it  so 


162  A  DAUGHTER  OF   fO-DAY. 

much  better  than  she  could,  and  it  would  do  for 
both  of  them. 

"You  paint  yourself,  I  fancy?"  Mr.  Cardiff  was 
saying  lightly.  There  was  no  answer  for  an  in- 
stant, or  perhaps  three.  Elfrida  was  looking  down. 
Presently  she  raised  her  eyes,  and  they  were  larger 
than  ever,  and  wet. 

"  No,"  she  said,  a  little  tensely.  "  I  have  tried  " — 
"  trr-hied,"  she  pronounced  it — "  but — but  I  cannot." 

Lawrence  Cardiff  looked  at  his  teaspoon  in  a  con- 
sidering way,  and  Janet  reflected,  not  without  in- 
dignation, that  this  was  the  manner  in  which  people 
who  cared  for  them  might  be  expected  to  speak  of 
the  dead.  But  Elfrida  cut  short  the  reflection  by 
turning  to  her  brightly.  "  When  Mr.  Cardiff  came 
in,"  she  said,  "  you  were  telling  me  why  a  Daudet 
could  not  write  about  the  English.  It  was  some- 
thing about  Sapho — " 

Mr.  Cardiff  looked  up  curiously,  and  Janet,  glanc- 
ing in  her  father's  direction,  reddened.  Did  this 
strange  young  woman  not  realize  that  it  was  impos- 
sible to  discuss  beings  like  "Sapho"  with  one's 
father  in  the  room  ?  Apparently  not,  for  she  went 
on:  "It  seems  to  me  it  is  the  exception  in  that 
class,  as  in  all  classes,  that  rewards  interest — " 

That  rewards  interest !  What  might  she  not  say 
next! 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  163 

"Yes,"  interrupted  Janet  desperately,  "but  then 
my  father  came  in  and  changed  the  subject  of  our 
conversation.     Where  are  you  living,  Miss  Bell  ?  " 

"Near  Meet  Street,"  said  Elfrida,  rising.  " I  find 
the  locality  most  interesting,  when  I  can  see  it.  I 
can  patronize  the  Roman  baths,  and  lunch  at  Dr. 
Johnson^s  pet  tavern,  and  attend  service  in  the 
church  of  the  real  Templars  if  I  like.  It  is  delight- 
ful. I  did  go  to  the  Temple  Church  a  fortnight 
ago,"  she  added,  "  and  I  saw  such  a  horrible  thing 
that  I  am  not  sure  that  I  will  go  again.  There  is  a 
beautiful  old  Crusader  lying  there  in  stone,  and  on 
his  feet  a  man  who  sat  near  had  hung  his  silk  hat. 
And  nobody  interfered.     Why  do  you  laugh  ? " 

When  she  had  fairly  gone  Lawrence  and  Janet 
Cardiff  looked  at  each  other  and  smiled.  "  Well !  " 
cried  Janet,  "  it^s  a  find,  isn't  it,  daddy  ? " 

Her  father  shrugged  his  shoulders.  His  manner 
said  that  he  was  not  pleased,  but  Janet  found  a  tone 
in  his  voice  that  told  her  the  impression  of  Elfrida 
had  not  been  altogether  distasteful. 

"  Fin  de  siecle/^  he  said. 

"Perhaps,"  Janet  answered,  looking  out  of  the 
window,  "  a  little  fin  de  siecle.^^ 

"  Did  you  notice,"  asked  Lawrence  Cardiff,  "  that 
she  didn't  tell  you  where  she  was  living  ? " 

"Didn't  she?  Neither  she  did.  But  we  can 
easily  find  out  from  John  Kendal." 


CHAPTER   XIY. 

Kendal  hardly  admitted  to  himself  that  his  ac- 
quaintance with  Elfrida  had  gone  beyond  the  point 
of  impartial  observation.  The  proof  of  its  impar- 
tiality, if  he  had  thought  of  seeking  it,  would  have 
appeared  to  him  to  lie  in  the  fact  that  he  found  her, 
in  her  personality,  her  ideas,  and  her  effects,  to  be 
damaged  by  London.  The  conventionality — Ken- 
dal's careless  generalization  preferred  a  broad  term 
— of  the  place  made  her  extreme  in  every  way,  and 
it  had  recently  come  to  be  a  conclusion  with  him 
that  Enghsh  conventionality,  in  moderation,  was  not 
wholly  to  be  smiled  at.  Returning  to  it,  its  protect- 
iveness  had  impressed  him  strongly,  and  he  had  a 
comforting  sense  of  the  responsibility  it  imposed 
upon  society.  Paris  and  the  Quartier  stood  out 
against  it  in  his  mind  like  something  fuU  of  light  and 
color  and  transient  passion  on  the  stage — something 
to  be  remembered  with  recurrent  thrills  of  keen  satis- 
faction and  to  be  seen  again.  It  had  been  more  than 
this,  he  acknowledged,  for  he  had  brought  out  of  it 
an  element  that  lightened  his  life  and  vitalized  his 
164 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  165 

work,  and  gave  an  element  of  joyonsness  to  his  imag- 
ination— it  was  certain  that  he  would  go  back  there. 
And  Miss  Bell  had  been  in  it  and  of  it — so  much  in 
it  and  of  it  that  he  felt  impatient  with  her  for  per- 
mitting herself  to  be  herself  in  any  other  environ- 
ment. He  asked  himself  why  she  could  not  see 
that  she  was  crudely  at  variance  with  all  color  and 
atmosphere  and  law  in  her  present  one,  and  he  spec- 
ulated as  to  the  propriety  of  telling  her  so,  of  advis- 
ing her  outright  as  to  the  expediency  in  her  own 
interest,  of  being  other  than  herself  in  London. 
That  was  what  it  came  to,  he  reflected  in  deciding 
that  he  could  not — if  the  girVs  convictions  and  mo- 
tives and  aims  were  real ;  and  he  was  beginning  to 
think  they  were  real.  And  although  he  had  found 
himself  at  liberty  to  say  to  her  things  that  were 
harder  to  hear,  he  felt  a  curious  repugnance  to  giv- 
ing her  any  inkling  of  what  he  thought  about  this. 
It  would  be  a  hideous  thing  to  do,  he  concluded,  an 
unforgivable  thing,  and  an  actual  hurt.  Kendal 
had  for  women  the  readiest  consideration,  and 
though  one  of  the  odd  things  he  found  in  Elfrida 
was  the  slight  degree  to  which  she  evoked  it  in  him, 
he  recoiled  instinctively  from  any  reasoned  action 
which  would  distress  her.  But  his  sense  of  her 
inconsistency  with  British  institutions — at  least  he 
fancied  it  was  that — led  him  to  discourage  somewhat, 


166  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

in  the  lightest  way,  Miss  Halifax^s  interested  inqui- 
ries about  her.  The  inquiries  suggested  dimly  that 
eccentricity  and  obscurity  might  be  overlooked  in 
any  one  whose  personality  really  had  a  value  for  Mr. 
Kendal,  and  made  an  attempt,  which  was  heroic 
considering  the  delicacy  of  Miss  Halifax's  scruples, 
to  measure  his  appreciation  of  Miss  Bell  as  a  writer 
— to  Miss  Halifax  the  word  wore  a  halo — and  as  an 
individual.  If  she  did  not  succeed  it  was  partly 
because  he  had  not  himself  quite  decided  whether 
Elfrida,  in  London,  was  delightful  or  intolerable, 
and  partly  because  he  had  no  desire  to  be  compli- 
cated in  social  relations  which,  he  told  himself,  must 
be  either  ludicrous  or  insincere.  The  Halifaxes 
were  not  in  any  sense  literary ;  their  proper  preten- 
sions to  that  sort  of  society  were  buried  with  Sir 
William,  who  had  been  editor  of  the  Brown  Qtiar- 
terly  in  his  day,  and  many  other  things.  They  had 
inherited  his  friends  as  they  had  inherited  his  man- 
uscripts ;  and  in  spite  of  a  grievous  inability  to  edit 
either  of  them,  they  held  to  one  legacy  as  fast  as  to 
the  other.  Kendal  thought  with  a  somewhat  repelled 
amusement  of  any  attempt  of  theirs  to  assimilate 
Elfrida.  It  was  different  with  the  Cardiffs;  but 
even  under  their  enthusiastic  encouragement  he 
was  disinclined  to  be  anything  but  discreet  and 
cautious  about  Elfrida.     In  one  way  and  another 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  167 

she  was,  at  all  events,  a  young  lady  of  potentialities, 
he  reflected,  and  with  a  view  to  their  effect  among 
one^s  friends  it  might  be  as  well  to  understand  them. 
He  went  so  far  as  to  say  to  himself  that  Janet  was 
such  a  thoroughly  nice  girl  as  she  was ;  and  then 
he  smiled  inwardly  at  the  thought  of  how  angry  she 
would  be  at  the  idea  of  his  putting  any  prudish  con- 
siderations on  her  account  into  the  balance  against 
an  interesting  acquaintance.  He  had,  nevertheless, 
a  distinct  satisfaction  in  the  fact  that  it  was  really 
circumstances,  in  the  shape  of  the  Decade  article, 
that  had  brought  them  together,  and  that  he  could 
hardly  charge  himself  with  being  more  than  an  ir- 
responsible agent  in  the  matter. 

Under  the  influence  of  such  considerations  Ken- 
dal did  not  write  to  Elfrida  at  the  Age  office  asking 
her  address,  as  he  had  immediately  resolved  to  do 
when  he  discovered  that  she  had  gone  away  without 
telling  him  where  he  might  find  her.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  he  could  not  very  well  see  her  at  her  lodg- 
ings. And  the  pleasure  of  coming  upon  her  sud- 
denly as  she  closed  the  door  of  the  Age  behind  her 
and  stepped  out  into  Fleet  Street  a  fortnight  later 
overcame  him  too  quickly  to  permit  him  to  reflect 
that  he  was  yielding  to  an  opposite  impulse  in  ask- 
ing her  to  dine  with  him  at  Baliero^s,  as  they  might 
have  done  in  Paris.     It  was  an  unlooked-for  oppor- 


168  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

tiinity,  and  it  roused  a  desire  which  he  had  not 
lately  been  calculating  upon — a  desire  to  talk  with 
her  about  all  sorts  of  things,  to  feel  the  exhilaration 
of  her  artistic  single-mindedness,  to  find  out  more 
about  her,  to  guess  at  the  meanings  behind  her 
eyes.  If  any  privileged  cynic  had  taken  the  chance 
to  ask  him  whether  he  found  her  eyes  expressive  of 
purely  abstract  significance,  Kendal  would  have  an- 
swered affirmatively  in  all  honesty.  And  he  would 
have  added  a  confession  of  his  curiosity  to  discover 
what  she  was  capable  of,  if  she  was  capable  of  any- 
thing— which  he  considered  legitimate  enough.  At 
the  moment,  however,  he  had  no  time  to  think  of 
anything  but  an  inducement,  and  he  dashed  through 
whole  pickets  of  scruples  to  find  one.  "  They  give 
one  such  capital  strawberry  ices  at  Baliero's,''  he 
begged  her  to  believe.  His  resolutions  did  not  even 
reassert  themselves  when  she  refused.  He  was  con- 
scious only  that  it  was  a  bore  that  she  should  refuse, 
and  very  inconsistent ;  hadn't  she  often  dined  with 
him  at  the  Cafe  Florian?  His  gratification  was 
considerable  when  she  added,  "They  smoke  there, 
you  know,"  and  it  became  obvious,  by  whatever 
curious  process  of  reasoning  she  arrived  at  it,  that 
it  was  BaUero's  restaurant  she  objected  to,  and  not 
his  society. 

"Well,"  he  urged,   "there  are  plenty  of  places 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  169 

where  they  don't  smoke,  though  it  didn^t  occur  to 
me  that — " 

"Oh,"  she  laughed,  "but  you  must  allow  it  to 
occur  to  you,"  and  she  put  her  finger  on  her  lip. 
Considering  their  solitariness  in  the  crowd,  he 
thought,  there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  not 
say  that  he  was  under  the  impression  she  liked  the 
smell  of  tobacco. 

"There  are  other  places,"  she  went  on.  "There 
is  a  sweet  little  green-and- white  place  like  a  dairy  in 
Oxford  Street,  that  calls  itself  the  ^  Hyacinth,'  which 
is  sacred  to  ladies  and  to  gentlemen  properly  chap- 
eroned. If  you  would  invite  me  to  dine  with  you 
there  I  should  like  it  very  much." 

"  Anywhere,"  he  said.  He  accepted  her  proposal 
to  dine  at  the  "Hyacinth"  with  the  same  unques- 
tioning pleasure  which  he  would  have  had  in  accept- 
ing her  proposal  to  dine  at  the  top  of  the  Monument 
that  evening ;  but  he  felt  an  under  perplexity  at  its 
terms,  which  was  vaguely  disturbing.  How  could 
it  possibly  matter  ?  Did  she  suppose  that  she  ad- 
vanced palpably  nearer  to  the  proprieties  in  dining 
with  Mm  in  one  place  rather  than  the  other  ?  There 
was  an  unreasonableness  about  that  which  irritated 
him. 

He  felt  it  more  distinctly  when  she  proposed  tak- 
ing an  omnibus  instead  of  the  cab  he  had  signalled. 


170  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

"  Oh,  of  course,  if  you  prefer  it,"  he  said ;  and  there 
was  almost  a  trace  of  injured  feeling  in  his  voice. 
It  was  so  much  easier  to  talk  in  a  cab. 

He  lost  his  apprehensions  presently,  for  it  became 
obvious  to  him  that  this  was  only  a  mood,  coming, 
as  he  said  to  himself  devoutly,  from  the  Lord  knew 
what  combination  of  circumstances — he  would  think 
that  out  afterward — ^but  making  Elfrida  none  the 
less  agreeable  while  it  lasted.  Under  its  influence 
she  kept  away  from  all  the  matters  she  was  fondest 
of  discussing  with  that  extraordinary  candor  and 
startling  equity  of  hers,  and  talked  to  him  with  a 
pretty  cleverness,  about  commonplaces  of  sorts  aris- 
ing out  of  the  day's  news,  the  shops,  the  weather. 
She  treated  them  all  with  a  gaiety  that  made  her 
face  a  fascinating  study  while  she  talked,  and 
pointed  them,  as  it  were,  with  all  the  little  poises 
and  expressions  and  reserves  which  are  commonly 
a  feminine  result  of  considerable  social  training. 
Kendal,  entering  into  her  whim,  inwardly  compared 
her  with  an  acknowledged  successful  girl  of  the  sea- 
son with  whom  he  had  sat  out  two  dances  the  night 
before  in  Eaton  Square,  to  the  successful  girVs  dis- 
advantage. Finding  something  lacking  in  that,  he 
came  upon  a  better  analogy  in  a  young  married 
lady  of  the  diplomatic  circle,  who  had  lately  been 
dipping  the  third  finger  of  her  left  hand  into  poll- 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  171 

tics  with  the  effect  of  considerably  increasing  her 
note.  This  struck  him  as  satisfactory,  and  he  en- 
joyed finding  completion  for  his  parallel  wherever 
her  words  and  gestures  offered  it.  He  took  her  at 
the  wish  she  implied,  and  eddied  with  her  around  the 
pool  which  some  counter-current  of  her  nature  had 
made  for  the  hour  in  its  stream,  pleasantly  enough. 
He  made  one  attempt,  as  Elfrida  unbuttoned  her 
gloves  at  their  little  table  at  the  ^^  Hyacinth,^'  to  get 
her  to  talk  about  her  work  for  the  Age. 

^^  Please,  please  don^t  mention  that,''  she  said.  "  It 
is  too  revolting.  You  don't  know  how  it  makes  me 
suffer." 

A  moment  later  she  returned  to  it  of  her  own 
accord,  however.  "It  is  absurd  to  try  to  exact 
pledges  from  people,"  she  said,  '^  but  I  should  reaUy 
be  happier — much  happier — if  you  would  promise 
me  something." 

"  ^  By  Heaven,  I  will  promise  any  thing  ! ' "  Kendal 
quoted,  laughing,  from  a  poet  much  in  vogue. 

"  Only  this — I  hope  I  am  not  selfish — "  she  hesi- 
tated 5  "  but  I  think — yes,  I  think  I  must  be  selfish 
here.     It  is  that  you  will  never  read  the  AgeJ^ 

"  I  never  do,"  leapt  to  his  hps,  but  he  stopped  it 
in  time.     "  And  why  ? "  he  asked  instead. 

"  Ah,  you  know  why !  It  is  because  you  might 
recognize  my  work  in  it — ^by  accident  you  might — 


172  A   DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

and  that  would  be  so  painful  to  me.  It  is  not  my 
best — ^please  believe  it  is  not  my  best !  " 

"On  one  condition  I  promise,"  he  said:  "that 
when  you  do  your  best  you  will  tell  me  where  to 
find  it." 

She  looked  at  him  gravely  and  considered.  As 
she  did  so  it  seemed  to  Kendal  that  she  was  regard- 
ing his  whole  moral,  mental,  and  material  nature. 
He  could  almost  see  it  reflected  in  the  glass  of  her 
great  dark  eyes.  "  Certainly,  yes.  That  is  fair — if 
you  really  and  truly  care  to  see  it.  And  I  don't 
know,"  she  added,  looking  up  at  him  from  her  soup, 
"  that  it  matters  whether  you  do  or  not,  so  long  as 
you  carefully  and  accurately  pretend  that  you  do. 
When  my  best,  my  real  best,  sees  the  light  of  com- 
mon— " 

"  Type,"  he  suggested. 

"  Type,"  she  repeated  unsmilingly,  "  I  shall  be  so 
insatiate  for  criticism — I  ought  to  say  praise — that  I 
shall  even  go  so  far  as  to  send  you  a  marked  copy, 
very  plainly  marked,  with  blue  pencil.  Already," 
she  smiled  with  a  charming  effect  of  assertiveness, 
"  I  have  bought  the  blue  pencil." 

"  Will  it  come  soon  ? "  Kendal  asked  seriously. 

"  Cher  amij^  Elfrida  said,  drawing  her  handsome 
brows  together  a  little,  "it  will  come  sooner  than 
you  expect.     That  is  what  I  want,"  she  went  on 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  173 

deliberately,  "  more  than  anything  else  in  the  whole 
world,  to  do  things — good  things,  you  understand — 
and  to  have  them  appreciated  and  paid  for  in  the 
admiration  of  people  who  feel  and  see  and  know. 
For  me  life  has  nothing  else,  except  the  things  that 
other  people  do,  better  and  worse  than  mine." 

"  Better  and  worse  than  yours,"  Kendal  repeated. 
"  Can't  you  think  of  them  apart  ? " 

"No,  I  can't,"  Elfrida  interrupted;  "Fve  tried, 
and  I  can  not.  I  know  it's  a  weakness — at  least  I'm 
half  persuaded  that  it  is — ^but  I  must  have  the  per- 
sonal standard  in  everything." 

"But  you  are  a  hero-worshipper;  often  I  have 
seen  you  at  it." 

"  Yes,"  she  said  cynically,  while  the  white-capped 
maid  who  handed  Kendal  asparagus  stared  at  her 
with  a  curiosity  few  of  the  Hyacinth's  lady  diners 
inspired,  "  and  when  I  look  into  that  I  find  it  is  be- 
cause of  a  secret  consciousness  that  tells  me  that  I, 
in  the  hero's  place,  should  have  done  just  the  same 
thing.  Or  else  it  is  because  of  the  gratification  my 
vanity  finds  in  my  sympathy  with  his  work,  what- 
ever it  is.  Oh,  it  is  no  special  virtue,  my  kind  of 
hero-worship."  The  girl  looked  across  at  Kendal 
and  laughed  a  bright,  frank  laugh,  in  which  was  no 
discontent  mth  what  she  had  been  telling  him. 

"  You  are  candid,"  Kendal  said. 
12 


174  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

"  Oh  yes,  I'ln  candid.  I  don't  mind  lying  for  a 
noble  end,  but  it  isn't  a  noble  end  to  deceive  one's 
self." 

"  ^  Oh,  purblind  race  of  miserable  men — ' "  Kendal 
began  lightly,  but  she  stopped  him. 

"  Don't !  "  she  cried.  "  Nothing  spoils  conversa- 
tion like  quotations.  Besides,  that's  such  a  trite 
one ;  I  learned  it  at  school." 

But  Kendal's  offence  was  clearly  in  his  manner. 
It  seemed  to  Elfrida  that  he  would  never  sin- 
cerely consider  what  she  had  to  say  about  herself. 
She  went  on  softly,  holding  him  with  her  eyes: 
"  You  may  find  me  a  simple  creature — " 

" A  propoSj^  laughed  Kendal  easily,  " what  is  this 
particular  noble  end ! " 

"  Bah ! "  she  said,  "  you  are  right.  It  was  a  li^, 
and  it  had  no  end  at  all.  I  am  complex  enough,  I 
dare  say.  But  this  is  true,  that  my  egotism  is  like  a 
little  flame  within  me.  All  the  best  things  feed  it, 
and  it  is  so  clear  that  I  see  everything  in  its  light. 
To  me  it  is  most  dear  and  valuable,  it  simplifies 
things  so.  I  assure  you  I  wouldn't  be  one  of  the 
sloppy,  unselfish  people  the  world  is  full  of  for  any- 
thing." 

^^As  a  source  of  gratification  isn't  it  rather  lim- 
ited ? "  Kendal  asked.  He  was  thinking  of  the  extra 
drop  of  nervous  fluid  in  Americans  that  he  had 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  175 

been  reading  about  in  the  afternoon,  and  wonder- 
ing if  it  often  had  this  development. 
'  ^'  I  don't  quite  know  what  you  mean,"  Elfrida  re- 
turned. ^^It  isn't  a  source  of  gratification,  it's  a 
channel.  And  it  intensifies  everything  so  that  I 
don't  care  how  little  comes  that  way.  If  there's 
anything  of  me  left  when  I  die  it  will  be  that  little 
fierce  flame.  And  when  I  do  the  tiniest  thing,  write 
the  shortest  sentence  that  rings  true,  see  a  beauty 
or  a  joy  which  the  common  herd  pass  by,  I  have  my 
whole  life  in  the  flame,  and  it  becomes  my  soul — I'm 
sure  I  have  no  other ! 

"  When  you  say  that  there  is  no  real  pleasure  in 
the  world  that  does  not  come  through  art,"  Elfrida 
went  on  again,  widening  her  eyes  seriously,  "  don't 
you  feel  as  if  you  were  uttering  something  religious 
— part  of  a  creed — as  the  Mussulman  feels  when  he 
says  there  is  no  God  but  one  God,  and  Mohammed 
is  his  prophet  1    I  do." 

*^  I  never  say  it,"  Kendal  returned,  with  a  smile. 
"  Does  that  make  me  out  a  Philistine,  or  a  Hindu, 
or  what?" 

^^  You  a  Philistine ! "  Elfrida  cried,  as  they  rose 
from  the  little  table.  "  You  are  saying  a  thing  that 
is  absolutely  wicked." 

Her  quasi-conventional  mood  had  vanished  com- 
pletely, and  as  they  drove  together  in  a  hansom 


176  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

through  the  mysterious  movement  of  the  lamp-lit 
London  streets,  toward  her  lodgings,  she  plunged 
enjoyingly  into  certain  theories  of  her  religion, 
which  embraced  Arnold  and  Aristotle  and  did  not 
exclude  Mr.  Whistler,  and  made  wide,  ineffectual, 
and  presumptuous  grasps  to  include  all  beauty  and 
all  faith.  She  threw  handfuls  of  the  foam  of  these 
things  at  Kendal,  who  watched  them  vanish  into  the 
air  with  pleasure,  and  asked  if  he  might  smoke.  At 
which  she  reflected,  deciding  that  for  the  present  he 
might  not,  but  when  they  reached  her  lodgings  she 
would  permit  him  to  renew  his  acquaintance  with 
Buddha,  and  give  him  a  cigarette. 

During  the  hour  they  smoked  and  talked  together 
Elfrida  was  wholly  delightful,  and  only  one  thing 
occurred  to  mar  the  enjoyment  of  the  evening  as 
Kendal  remembered  it.  That  was  Mr.  Golightly 
Ticke,  who  came  up  and  smoked  too,  and  seemed  to 
have  an  extraordinary  familiarity,  for  such  an  ut- 
terly impossible  person,  with  Miss  Bell's  literary 
engagements.  On  his  way  home  Kendal  reflected 
that  it  was  doubtless  a  question  of  time  j  she  would 
take  to  the  customs  of  civilization  by  degrees,  and 
the  sooner  the  better. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Shortly  afterward  Elfrida  read  Mr.  Pater's 
''Marius/'  with  what  she  herself  called,  somewhat 
extravagantly,  a  ^'hungry  and  hopeless"  delight.  I 
cannot  say  that  this  Oxonian's  tender  classical  recre- 
ation had  any  critical  effect  npon  her ;  she  probably 
found  it  much  too  limpid'  and  untroubled  to  move 
her  in  the  least.  I  niention  it  by  way  of  saying 
that  Lawrence  Cardiff  lent  it  to  her,  mth  a  smile  of 
half -indulgent,  half -contemptuous  assent  to  some  of 
her  ideas,  which  was  altered,  when  she  returned  the 
volumes,  by  the  active  necessity  of  defending  his 
own.  Elfrida  had  been  accepted  at  the  Cardiffs, 
with  the  ready  tolerance  which  they  had  for  types 
that  were  remarkable  to  them,  and  not  entirely  dis- 
agreeable; though  Janet  was  always  telling  her 
father  that  it  was  impossible  that  Elfrida  should  be 
a  type — she  was  an  exception  of  the  most  exception- 
able sort.  "  111  admit  her  to  be  abnormal,  if  you 
like,"  Cardiff  would  return,  "but  only  from  an  in- 
sular point  of  view.  I  dare  say  they  grow  that 
way  in  Illinois."  But  that  was  in  the  early  stages 
177 


178  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

of  their  acquaintance  with  Miss  Bell,  which  ripened 
with  unprecedented  rapidity  for  an  acquaintance  in 
Kensington  Square.  It  was  before  Janet  had  taken 
to  walking  across  the  gardens  with  Elfrida  in  the 
half -hour  between  tea-time  and  dressing  for  dinner, 
when  the  two  young  women,  sometimes  under  drip- 
ping umbrellas,  would  let  the  right  omnibus  follow 
the  wrong  one  toward  Fleet  Street  twice  and  thrice 
in  their  disinclination  to  postpone  what  they  had  to 
say  to  each  other.  It  was  also  before  Elfrida^s  in- 
vasion of  the  Hbrary  and  fee-simple  of  the  books, 
and  before  she  had  said  there  many  things  that 
were  original,  some  that  were  impertinent,  and  a 
few  that  were  true.  The  Cardiffs  discussed  her 
less  freely  as  the  weeks  went  on — a  sure  sign  that 
she  was  becoming  better  liked,  accepted  less  as  a 
phenomenon,  and  more  as  a  friend.  There  grew  up 
in  Janet  the  beginnings  of  the  strong  affection 
which  she  felt  for  a  very  few  people,  an  affection 
which  invariably  mingled  itself  with  a  lively  desire 
to  bestir  herself  on  their  account,  to  be  fully  in- 
formed as  to  their  circumstances,  and  above  all  to 
possess  relations  of  absolute  directness  with  them. 
She  had  an  imperious  successful  strain  which  in- 
sisted upon  all  this.  She  was  a  capable  creature 
of  much  perception  for  twenty-four,  and  she  had  a 
sense  of  injury  when  for  any  reason  she  was  not 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  179 

allowed  to  use  her  faculties  for  the  benefit  of  any 
one  she  liked  in  a  way  which  excited  the  desire  to  do 
it.  Janet  had  to  reproach  herself,  when  she  thought 
of  it,  that  this  sort  of  liking  seldom  came  by  entirely 
approved  channels,  and  hardly  ever  found  an  object 
in  her  visiting-list.  Its  first  and  almost  its  only 
essential,  to  speak  boldly,  was  an  artistic  suscepti- 
bility with  some  sort  of  relation  to  her  own,  which 
her  visiting-list  did  not  often  supply,  though  it 
might  have  been  said  to  overflow  with  more  widely 
recognized  virtues.  For  that  Miss  Cardiff  was 
known  to  be  willing  to  sacrifice  the  Thirty-nine 
Articles,  respectable  antecedents,  the  possession  of 
a  dress-coat.  Her  willingness  was  the  more  widely 
known  because  in  the  circle  which  fate  had  drawn 
around  her — ironically,  she  sometimes  thought — it 
was  not  usual  to  sacrifice  these  things.  As  for 
Janet's  own  artistic  susceptibility,  it  was  a  very  pri- 
vate atmosphere  of  her  soul.  She  breathed  it,  one 
might  say,  only  occasionally,  and  with  a  kind  of 
delicious  shame.  She  was  incapable  of  sharing  her 
caught-up  felicity  there  with  any  one,  but  it  was  in- 
dispensable that  she  should  see  it  sometimes  in  the 
eyes  of  others  less  contained,  less  conscious,  whose 
sense  of  humor  might  be  more  slender  perhaps. 
Her  own  nature  was  practical  and  managing  in  its 
ordinary  aspect,  and  she  had  a  degree  of  tact  that 


180  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

was  always  interfering  with  her  love  of  honesty. 
Having  established  a  friendship  by  the  arbitrary 
law  of  sympathy,  it  must  be  admitted  that  she  had 
an  instinctive  way  of  trying  to  strengthen  it  by 
voluntary  benefits,  for  affection  was  a  great  need 
with  her. 

It  was  only  about  this  time  and  very  grad- 
ually that  she  began  to  realize  how  much  more 
she  cared  for  John  Kendal  than  for  other  people. 
Since  it  seemed  to  be  obvious  that  Kendal  gave  her 
only  a  share  of  the  affectionate  interest  he  had  for 
humanity  at  large,  the  realization  was  not  wholly 
agreeable,  and  Janet  doubtless  found  Elfrida,  on 
this  account,  even  a  more  valuable  distraction  than 
she  otherwise  would.  One  of  the  matters  Miss  Bell 
was  in  the  habit  of  discussing  with  some  vivacity 
was  the  sexlessness  of  artistic  sympathy.  Upon  this 
subject  Janet  found  her  quite  inspired.  She  made 
a  valiant  effort  to  illumine  her  thoughts  of  Kendal 
by  the  light  Elfrida  threw  upon  such  matters,  and 
although  she  had  to  confess  that  the  future  was  still 
hid  in  embarrassed  darkness,  she  did  manage  to 
construct  a  theory  by  which  it  was  possible  to  grope 
along  for  the  present.  She  also  cherished  a  hope 
that  this  trouble  would  leave  her,  as  a  fever  abates  in 
the  night,  that  she  would  awake  some  morning,  if 
she  only  had  patience,  strong  and  well.     In  other 


A  DAUGHTER   OP   TO-DAY.  181 

things  Miss  Cardiff  was  sometimes  jarred  rather 
than  shocked  by  the  American  girPs  mental  attitudes, 
which,  she  began  to  find,  were  not  so  posed  as  her 
physical  ones.  Elfrida  often  left  her  repelled  and 
dissenting.  The  dissent  she  showed  vigorously  j  the 
repulsion  she  concealed,  sore  with  herself  because  of 
the  concealment.  But  she  could  not  lose  Elfrida, 
she  told  herself  j  and  besides,  it  was  only  a  matter 
of  a  little  tolerance — ^time  and  life  would  change 
her,  tone  her  inner  self  down  into  the  something 
altogether  exquisite  and  perfect  that  she  was,  to 
look  at,  now. 

Elfrida  called  the  Cardiffs'  house  the  oasis  of 
Kensington,  and  valued  her  privileges  there  more 
than  she  valued  anything  else  in  the  circumstances 
about  her,  except,  perhaps,  the  privilege  she  had 
enjoyed  in  making  the  single  contribution  to  the 
Decade  of  which  we  know.  That  was  an  event  lus- 
trous in  her  memory,  the  more  lustrous  because  it 
remained  solitary  j  and  when  the  editor^s  check 
made  its  tardy  appearance  she  longed  to  keep  it  as 
a  glorious  archive — glorious,  that  is  to  say,  in  sugges- 
tion, if  not  particularly  impressive  intrinsically.  In 
the  end  she  fought  the  temptation  of  giving  herself 
a  dinner  a  day  for  a  fortnight  out  of  it,  and  bought 
a  slender  gold  bangle  with  the  money,  which  she 
slipped  upon  her  wrist  with  a  resolution  to  keep  it 


182  A   DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

there  always.  It  must  be  believed  that  her  personal 
decoration  did  not  enter  materially  into  this  design ; 
the  bangle  was  an  emblem  of  one  success  and  an 
earnest  of  others.  She  wore  it  as  she  might  have 
worn  a  medal,  except  that  a  medal  was  a  public 
voice,  and  the  little  gold  hoop  spoke  only  to  her. 

After  the  triumph  that  the  bangle  signified  El- 
f rida  felt  most  satisfaction  in  what  was  constantly 
present  to  her  mind  as  her  conquest  of  the  Cardiffs. 
She  measured  its  importance,  by  their  value.  Her 
admiration  for  Janet's  work  in  the  beginning  had 
been  as  sincere  as  her  emulation  of  its  degree  of 
excellence  had  been  passionate,  and  neither  feeling 
had  diminished  with  their  intimacy.  In  Lawrence 
Cardiff  she  felt  vaguely  the  qualities  that  made  him 
a  marked  man  among  his  fellows,  his  intellectual 
breadth  and  keenness,  his  poise  of  brain,  if  one 
might  call  it  so,  and  the  hcibilete  with  which,  without 
permitting  it  to  be  part  of  his  character,  he  some- 
times allowed  himself  to  charm  even  people  of 
whom  he  disapproved.  These  things  were  inde- 
terminately present  to  her,  and  led  her  often  to 
speculate  as  to  how  it  was  that  Mr.  Cardiff's  work 
expressed  him  so  little.  It  seemed  to  her  that  the 
one  purpose  of  a  personality  like  his  was  its  expres- 
sion— otherwise  one  might  as  weU  be  of  the  ruck. 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  183 

'^You  write  with  your  intellectual  faculties,"  she 
said  to  him  once;  "your  soul  is  curiously  dumb." 
But  that  was  later. 

The  plane  of  Elf rida's  relations  with  Janet  altered 
gradually,  one  might  say,  from  the  inclined,  with 
Elfrida  on  her  knees  at  the  lower  end,  to  the  hori- 
zontal. It  changed  insensibly  enough,  through  the 
freemasonry  of  confessed  and  unconfessed  ideals, 
through  growing  attraction,  through  the  feeling 
they  shared,  though  only  Janet  voiced  it,  that  there 
was  nothing  but  the  opportunities  and  the  experi- 
ence of  four  years  between  them,  that  in  the  end 
Elfrida  would  do  better,  stronger,  more  original 
work  than  she.  Elfrida  was  so  much  more  original 
a  person,  Janet  declared  to  herself,  so — and  when 
she  hesitated  for  this  word  she  usually  said  '^  enig- 
matical." The  answer  to  the  enigma,  Janet  was 
sure,  would  be  wiitten  large  in  publishers'  advertise- 
ments one  day.  In  the  meantime,  it  was  a  vast 
satisfaction  to  Janet  to  be,  as  it  were,  behind  the 
enigma,  to  consider  it  with  the  privileges  of  inti- 
macy. These  young  women  felt  their  friendship 
deeply,  in  their  several  ways.  It  held  for  them  all 
sacredness  and  honor  and  obligation.  For  Elfrida 
it  had  an  intrinsic  beauty  and  interest,  like  a  curio 
— she  had  half  a  dozen  such  curios  in  the  museum 


184  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

of  her  friends — and  for  Janet  it  added  something  to 
existence  that  was  not  there  before^  more  delightful 
and  important  than  a  mere  opportunity  of  expan- 
sion. The  time  came  speedily  when  it  would  have 
been  a  positive  pain  to  either  of  them  to  hear  the 
other  discussed,  however  favorably. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Lady  Halifax  and  her  daughter  had  met  Miss 
Bell  several  times  at  the  Cardiffs^,  in  a  casual  way, 
before  it  occurred  to  either  of  them  to  take  any  sort 
of  advantage  of  the  acquaintance.  The  younger 
lady  had  a  shivering  and  frightened  delight  in  occa- 
sionally wading  ankle-deep  in  unconventionaHty,  but 
she  had  lively  recollections,  in  connection  with  the 
Cardiff  s,  of  having  been  very  nearly  taken  off  her  feet. 
They  had  since  decided  that  it  was  more  discreet 
to  ignore  Janet's  enthusiasms,  which  were  sometimes 
quite  impossible  in  their  verdict,  and  always  im- 
probable. The  literary  ladies  and  gentlemen  w^hom 
the  ghost  of  the  departed  Sir  William  brought  more 
or  less  unwillingly  to  Lady  Halifax's  drawing-rooms 
were  all  of  unexceptionable  cachet;  the  Halifaxes 
were  constantly  seeing  paragraphs  about  them  in 
the  "  Literary  Gossip  "  department  of  the  Athenian^ 
mentioning  their  state  of  health,  their  retirement 
from  scientific  appointments,  or  the  fact  that  their 
most  recent  work  of  fiction  had  reached  its  fourth 
edition.  Lady  Halifax  always  read  the  Athenian^ 
185 


186  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

even  the  publishers'  announcements;  she  liked  to 
keep  "  in  touch,"  she  said,  with  the  literary  activities 
of  the  day,  and  it  gave  her  a  special  gratification  to 
notice  the  prosperity  of  her  writing  friends  indicated 
in  tall  figures.  Miss  Halifax  read  it  too,  but  she 
liked  the  "  Art  Notes  "  best ;  it  was  a  matter  of  com- 
plaint with  her  that  the  house  was  not  more  open 
to  artists — new,  original  artists  like  John  Kendal. 
In  answer  to  this  Lady  Halifax  had  a  habit  of  stat- 
ing that  she  did  not  see  what  more  they  could  possi- 
bly want  than  the  president  of  the  Royal  Academy 
and  the  one  or  two  others  that  came  already.  As 
for  John  Kendal,  he  was  certainly  new  and  original, 
but  he  was  respectable  notwithstanding ;  they  could 
be  certain  that  he  was  not  putting  his  originality 
on — with  a  hearth-brush,  for  the  sake  of  advertise- 
ment. Lady  Halifax  was  not  so  sure  of  Elfrida's 
originality,  of  which  she  had  been  given  a  glimpse 
or  two  at  first,  and  which  the  girPs  intimacy  with 
the  Cardiffs  would  have  presupposed  in  any  case. 
But  presently,  and  somewhat  to  Lady  Halifax's 
perplexity.  Miss  Bell's  originality  disappeared.  It 
seemed  to  melt  into  the  azure  of  perfect  good-breed- 
ing, flecked  by  little  clouds  of  gay  sayings  and 
politenesses,  whenever  chance  brought  her  under 
Lady  Halifax's  observation.  A  not  unreasonable 
solution  of  the  problem  might  have  been  found  in 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  187 

Elfrida^s  instinctive  objection  to  casting  her  pearls 
where  they  are  proverbially  unappreciated,  and  the 
necessity  in  her  nature  of  pleasing  herself  by  one 
form  of  agreeable  behavior  if  not  by  another.  Lady 
Halifax,  however,  ascribed  it  to  the  improving  in- 
fluence of  insular  institutions,  and  finally  concluded 
that  it  ought  to  be  followed  up. 

Elfrida  wore  amber  and  white  the  evening  on 
which  Lady  Halifax  followed  it  up — a  Parisian  modi- 
fication of  a  design  carried  out  originally  by  the 
Sparta  dressmaker,  with  a  degree  of  hysteria,  under 
Miss  Beirs  direction.  She  wore  it  with  a  touch  of 
unusual  color  in  her  cheeks  and  an  added  light  in 
her  dark  eyes  that  gave  a  winsomeness  to  her  beauty 
which  it  had  not  always.  A  cunningly  bound  spray 
of  yellow-stamened  lilies  followed  the  curving  line 
of  her  low-necked  dress,  ending  in  a  cluster  in  her 
bosom ;  the  glossy  little  leaves  of  the  smilax  the  florist 
had  wreathed  in  with  them  stood  sharply  against 
the  whiteness  of  her  neck.  Her  hair  was  massed  at 
the  back  of  her  head  simply  and  girlishly  enough, 
and  its  fluffiness  about  her  forehead  made  a  sweet 
shadow  above  her  eyes.  She  had  a  little  fever  of 
expectation,  Janet  had  talked  so  much  about  this 
reception.  Janet  had  told  her  that  the  real  thing, 
the  real  English  literary  thing  in  numberless  vol- 
umes, would  be  on  view  at  Lady  Halifax's.     Miss 


188  A   DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

Cardiff  had  mentioned  this  in  their  discussion  of 
the  Arcadia  Club,  at  which  institution  she  had 
scoffed  so  unbearably  that  Elfrida,  while  she  cher- 
ished the  memory  of  Georgiadi,  had  not  mentioned 
it  since.  Perhaps,  after  all,  she  reflected,  Janet  was 
just  a  trifle  blind  where  people  were  not  hall-marked. 
It  did  not  occur  to  her  to  consider  how  far  she  her- 
self illustrated  this  theory. 

But  as  she  went  down  Mrs.  Jordan's  narrow 
flights  of  stairs  covered  with  worn  oil-cloth,  she 
kissed  her  own  soft  arm  for  pure  pleasure. 

^^  You  are  ravishing  to-night,"  she  told  herself. 

Golightly  Tickets  door  was  open,  and  he  was 
standing  in  it,  picturesquely  smoking  a  cigarette 
with  the  candle  burning  behind  him — ''•  Just  to  see 
you  pass,"  he  said. 

Elfrida  paused  and  threw  back  her  cloak.  "  How 
is  it?"  she  asked,  posing  for  him  with  its  folds 
gathered  in  either  hand. 

Ticke  scanned  her  with  leisurely  appreciation. 
"  It  is  exquisite,"  he  articulated. 

Elfrida  gave  him  a  look  that  might  have  intoxi- 
cated nerves  less  accustomed  to  dramatic  effects. 

"  Then  whistle  me  a  cab,"  she  said. 

Mr.  Ticke  whistled  her  a  cab  and  put  her  into 
it.  There  was  the  least  pressure  of  his  long  fingers 
as  he  took  her  hand,  and  Elfrida  forbade  herself  to 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  189 

resent  it.  She  felt  her  own  beauty  so  much  that 
night  that  she  could  not  complain  of  an  enthusiasm 
for  it  in  such  a  helle  dme  as  Golightly. 

They  went  up  to  the  drawing-room  together, 
Elfrida  and  the  Cardiffs,  and  Lady  Halifax  imme- 
diately introduced  to  Miss  Bell  a  hollow-cheeked 
gentleman  with  a  long  gray  beard  and  bushy  eye- 
brows as  a  fellow-countryman.  "  You  can  compare 
your  impressions  of  Hyde  Park  and  St.  Paul's,"  said 
Lady  HaHfax,  ^^but  doii^t  call  us  ^Britishers.'  It 
really  isn't  pretty  of  you." 

Elfrida  discovered  that  the  bearded  gentleman 
was  principal  of  a  college  in  Florida,  and  corre- 
sponded regularly  at  one  time  with  the  late  Sir 
WiUiam.  ^'It  is  to  that,"  said  he  ornately,  '^that 
I  owe  the  honor  of  joining  this  brilliant  company 
to-night."  He  went  on  to  state  that  he  was  over 
there  principally  on  account  of  his  health — acute 
dyspepsia  he  had,  it  seemed  he'd  got  out  of  running 
order  generally,  regularly  off  the  track.  ^^  But  I've 
just  about  concluded,"  he  continued,  with  a  pathetic 
twinkle  under  his  bushy  brows,  ^^  that  I  might  have 
a  worse  reason  for  going  back.  What  do  you 
think  of  the  meals  in  Victoria's  country,  Miss  Bell  ? 
It  seems  to  me  sometimes  that  I'd  give  the  whole 
British  Museum  for  a  piece  of  Johnny-cake." 

Elfrida    reflected    that    this    was   not  precisely 
13 


190  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

what  she  expected  to  experience,  and  presently 
the  hollow-cheeked  Floridian  was  again  at  Lady 
Halifax^s  elbow  for  disposal,  while  the  young  lady 
whose  appearance  and  nationality  had  given  him 
so  much  room  for  hope  smilingly  drifted  away 
from  him.  The  Cardiffs  were  talking  to  a  rosy  and 
smooth-faced  round-waistcoated  gentleman  just  re- 
turned from  Siberia  about  the  unfortunate  combina- 
tion of  accidents  by  which  he  lost  the  mail  train 
twice  in  three  days,  and  Janet  had  just  shaken 
hands  with  a  short  and  cheerful-looking  lady  astrol- 
ogist. 

''•  Behind  that  large  person  in  the  heliotrope  bro- 
cade— she's  the  wife  of  the  Daily  Mercury — there's  a 
small  sofa,"  Janet  said  in  an  undertone.  "  I  don't 
think  she'll  occupy  it,  the  brocade  looks  so  much 
better  standing — no,  there  she  goes!  Let  us  sit 
down."  As  they  crossed  the  room  Janet  added: 
"  In  another  minute  we  should  have  been  shut  up 
in  a  Russian  prison.  Daddy's  incarcerated  already. 
And  the  man  told  all  he  knew  about  them  in  the 
pubHc  prints  a  month  ago."  They  sat  down  luxu- 
riously together,  and  made  ready,  in  their  palm- 
shaded  corner,  to  wreak  the  whole  of  their  irrespon- 
sible youth  upon  Lady  Halifax's  often  venerable 
and  always  considerable  guests.  The  warm  atmos- 
phere of  the  room  had  the  perceptible  charge  of 


A  DAUGHTER  OP  TO-DAY.  191 

personalities.  People  in  almost  every  part  of  it 
were  trying  to  look  unconscious  as  they  pointed  out 
other  people. 

^^Tell  me  about  everybody — everybody/'  said 
Elfrida. 

"  H'm !  I  don^t  see  anybody,  that  is  anybody, 
at  this  moment.  Oh,  there's  Sir  Bradford  Barker. 
Regard  him  well,  for  a  brave  soul  is  Sir  Bradford, 
Frida  mine." 

"  A  soldier  ?  At  this  end  of  the  century  one  can't 
feel  an  enthusiasm  for  killing." 

"Not  in  the  least.  A  member  of  Parliament  who 
writes  verses  and  won't  be  intimidated  by  Punch 
into  not  publishing  them.  And  the  man  he  is 
talking  to  has  just  done  a  history  of  the  Se- 
mitic nations.  He  took  me  down  to  dinner  last 
night,  and  we  talked  in  the  most  intelligent  man- 
ner about  the  various  ways  of  preparing  crabs. 
He  liked  them  in  five  styles  j  I  wouldn't  subscribe 
to  more  than  three.  That  little  man  with  the  orchid 
that  daddy  has  just  seized  is  the  author  of  the  last 
of  the  ^  Rulers  of  India '  series — Sir  Somebody  Some- 
thing, K.C.S.I.  My  unconscionable  humbug  of  a 
parent  probably  wants  to  get  something  approach- 
ing a  fact  out  of  him.  Daddy's  writing  a  thing  for 
one  of  the  reviews  on  the  elective  principle  for  India 
this  week.     He  says  he's  the  only  writer  on  Indian 


192  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

subjects  who  isn't  disqualified  by  ever  having  been 
there,  and  is  consequently  quite  free  of  prejudice." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Elfrida,  ^'  how  hanal !  I  thought  you 
said  there  would  be  something  real  here — somebody 
in  whose  garment's  hem  there  would  be  virtue." 

"And  I  suggest  the  dress-coat  of  the  historian 
of  the  Semitic  nations !  "  Janet  laughed.  "Well,  if 
nearly  all  our  poets  are  dead  and  our  novelists  in 
the  colonies,  I  can't  help  it,  can  I?  Here  is  Mr. 
Kendal,  at  all  events." 

Kendal  came  up,  with  his  perfect  manners,  and 
immediately  it  seemed  to  Elfrida  that  their  little 
group  became  distinct  from  the  rest,  more  impor- 
tant, more  worthy  of  observation.  Kendal  never 
added  anything  to  the  unities  of  their  conversation 
when  he  joined  these  two;  he  seemed  rather  to 
break  up  what  they  had  to  say  to  each  other  and 
attract  it  to  himself.  He  always  gave  an  accent 
to  the  life  and  energy  of  their  talk  j  but  he  made 
them  both  self-conscious  and  watchful — seemed 
to  put  them,  as  it  were,  upon  their  guard  against  one 
another,  in  a  way  which  Janet  found  vaguely  dis- 
tressing. It  was  invariably  as  if  Kendal  turned 
their  intercourse  into  a  joust  by  his  mere  presence 
as  spectator ;  as  if — Janet  put  it  plainly  to  herself, 
reddening — they  mutely  asked  him  to  bestow  the 
wreath  on  one  of  them.     She  almost  made  up  her 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  193 

mind  to  ask  Elfrida  where  their  understanding  went 
to  when  John  Kendal  came  up,  but  she  had  not 
found  it  possible  yet.  There  was  an  embarrassing 
chance  that  Elfrida  did  not  feel  their  change  of 
attitude,  which  would  entail  nameless  surmises. 

'^  You  ought  to  be  at  work/^  Janet  said  severely 
to  Kendal,  ^'  back  at  Barbizon  or  in  the  fields  some- 
where.    It  won^t  be  always  June." 

"  Ah,  would  you  banish  him !  "  Elfrida  exclaimed 
daintily.  "  Surely  Hyde  Park  is  rustic  enough — in 
June." 

Kendal  smiled  into  her  face.  "It  combines  all 
the  charm  of  the  country,"  he  began. 

"And  the  chic  of  the  town,"  Elfrida  finished  for 
him  gaily.     "  I  know — IVe  seen  the  Boot  Show." 

"  Extremely  frivolous,"  Janet  commented. 

"  Ah,  now  we  are  condemned !  "  Elfrida  answered, 
and  for  an  instant  it  almost  seemed  as  if  it  were  so. 

"Daddy  wants  you  to  go  and  paint  stragghng 
gray  stone  villages  in  Scotland  now — straggling, 
climbing  gray  stone  villages  with  only  a  bit  of  blue 
at  the  end  of  the  ^  Dead  Wynd,^  where  it  turns  into 
the  churchyard  gate." 

"  How  charming !  "  Elfrida  exclaimed. 

"  I  suppose  he  has  been  saturating  himself  with 
Barrie,"  Kendal  said.  "  If  I  could  reproduce  Barrie 
on  canvas,  Pd  go,  like  a  shot.     By  the  way.  Miss 


194  A  DAUGHTER  OF   lO-DAY. 

Bell,  there^s  somebody  yon  are  interested  in — do  yon 
see  a  middle-aged  man,  rather  bald,  thick-set,  com- 
ing this  way  ? — George  Jasper." 

"  Keally !  "  Elfrida  exclaimed,  jnmping  to  her  feet. 
"  Oh,  thank  yon !  The  most  consnmmate  artist  in 
hnman  natnre  that  the  time  has  given !  "  she  added, 
with  intensity.  "There  can  be  no  qnestion.  Oh, 
I  am  so  happy  to  have  seen  him !  " 

"  Pm  not  altogether  snre,''  Kendal  began,  and  then 
he  stopped,  looking  at  Janet  in  astonished  qnestion. 
Elfrida  had  taken  half  a  dozen  steps  into  the  middle 
of  the  room,  steps  so  instinct  with  effect  that  already 
as  many  heads  were  turned  to  look  at  her.  Her 
eyes  were  large  with  excitement,  her  cheeks  flushed, 
and  she  bent  her  head  a  little,  almost  as  if  to  see 
nothing  that  might  dissuade  her  from  her  purpose. 
The  author  of  "The  Alien,"  "A Moral  Catastrophe," 
"Her  Disciple,"  and  a  number  of  other  volumes 
which  cause  envy  and  heart-burnings  among  pub- 
lishers, in  the  course  of  his  somewhat  short-sighted 
progress  across  the  room,  paused  with  a  confused 
effort  to  remember  who  this  pretty  girl  might  be 
who  wanted  to  speak  to  him. 
-  Elfrida  said,  "  Pardon  me ! "  and  Mr.  Jasper  in- 
stantly perceived  that  there  could  be  no  question 
of  that,  with  her  face.  She  was  holding  out  her 
hand,  and  he  took  it  with  absolute  mystification. 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-BAY.  195 

Elfrida  had  turned  very  pale,  and  a  dozen  peo- 
ple were  listening.  ^^  Give  me  the  right  to  say  I 
have  done  this ! "  she  said,  looking  at  him  with 
shy  bravery  in  her  beautiful  eyes.  She  half  sank 
on  one  knee  and  lifted  the  hand  that  wrote  ^^A 
Moral  Catastrophe  "  to  her  lips. 

Mr.  Jasper  repossessed  himself  of  it  rather  too 
hastily  for  dignity,  and  inwardly  he  expressed  his 
feehngs  by  a  puzzled  oath.  Outwardly  he  looked 
somewhat  ashamed  of  having  inspired  this  un- 
known young  lady^s  enthusiasm,  but  he  did  his 
confused  best,  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  to  carry 
off  the  situation  as  one  of  the  contingencies  to 
which  the  semi-public  life  of  a  popular  novelist  is 
always  subject. 

"  Eeally,  you  are — ^much  too  good.  I  can^t  imagine 
— if  the  case  had  been  reversed — " 

Mr.  Jasper  found  himself,  accustomed  as  he  was 
to  the  exigencies  of  London  drawing-rooms,  horri- 
bly in  want  of  words.  And  in  the  bow  with  which 
he  further  defined  his  discomfort  he  added  to  it  by 
dropping  the  bit  of  stephanotis  which  he  wore  in  his 
buttonhole. 

Elfrida  sprang  to  pick  it  up.  ^^  Oh,''  she  cried, 
^4t  is  broken  at  the  stem;  see,  you  cannot  wear 
it  any  more.     May  I  keep  it  f " 

A  deadly  silence  had  been  widening  around  them, 


196  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

and  now  the  daughter  of  the  historian  of  the  Semitic 
races  broke  it  by  twittering  into  a  laugh  behind  her 
fan.  Janet  met  Kendalls  eyes  instinctively ;  he  was 
bui'ning  red,  and  his  manner  was  eloquent  of  his 
helplessness.  Angry  with  herself  for  having  waited 
so  long,  Janet  joined  Elfrida  just  as  the  twitter 
made  itself  heard,  and  Mr.  Jaspei^'s  face  began  to 
stiffen  with  indignation. 

^^  Ah,  Miss  Cardiff,"  he  said  with  relief,  ^^  how  do 
you  do!  The  rooms  are  rather  warm,  don't  you 
think?" 

"I  want  to  introduce  you  to  my  Am — my  very 
great  friend.  Miss  Bell,  Mr.  Jasper,"  Janet  said 
quickly,  as  the  buzz  of  conversation  began  again 
about  them. 

Elfrida  turned  to  her  reproachfully.  "If  I  had 
known  it  was  at  all  possible  that  you  would  do  that,^^ 
she  said,  "I  might  have — waited.  But  I  did  not 
know." 

People  were  still  looking  at  them  with  curious 
attentiveness  5  they  were  awkwardly  solitary.  Ken- 
dal in  his  corner  was  asking  himself  how  she  could 
have  struck  such  a  false  note — and  of  all  people  Jas- 
per, whose  pohshed  work*  held  no  trace  of  his  per- 
sonality, whose  pleasure  it  was  to  have  no  public 
entity  whatever.  As  Jasper  moved  off  almost  im- 
mediately, Kendal  saw  his  tacit  discomfort  in  the  set 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  197 

of  his  shoulders,  and  so  sure  was  he  of  Elfrida's  em- 
barrassment that  he  himself  slipped  away  to  avoid 
adding  to  it. 

"It  was  all  wrong  and  ridiculous,  and  she  was 
mad  to  do  it/'  thought  Janet  as  she  drove  home 
with  her  father;  "but  why  need  John  Kendal  hav 
blushed  for  her  ?  '^ 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"  I  AM  sure  you  are  enjoying  it,"  said  Elfrida. 

"Yes,"  Miss  Kimpsey  returned.  "It^s  a  great 
treat — ^it's  a  very  great  treat.  Everything  surpasses 
my  expectations,  everything  is  older  and  blacker 
and  more  interesting  than  I  looked  for.  And  I 
must  say  we^re  getting  over  a  great  deal  in  the  time. 
Yesterday  afternoon  we  did  the  entire  Tower.  It 
did  give  one  an  idea.  But  of  course  you  know 
every  stone  in  it  by  now !  " 

"Pm  afraid  Pve  not  seen  it,"  Elfrida  confessed 
gravely.     "  I  know  it^s  shocking  of  me." 

"You  haven^t  visited  the  Tower!  Doesn't  that 
show  how  benumbing  opportunity  is  to  the  ener- 
gies !  Now  I  dare  say  that  I,"  Miss  Kimpsey  went 
on  with  gratification,  "  coming  over  with  a  party  of 
tourists  from  our  State,  aU  bound  to  get  London 
and  the  cathedral  towns  and  the  lakes  and  Scot- 
land and  Paris  and  Switzerland  into  the  summer 
vacation — I  presume  I  may  have  seen  more  of  the 
London  sights  than  you  have.  Miss  Bell."  As  Miss 
Kimpsey  spoke  she  realized  that  she  had  had  no  in- 
198 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  199 

tention  of  calling  Elfrida  ^^Miss  Bell''  when  she  saw 
her  again,  and  wondered  why  she  did  it.  ^^  But  you 
ought  to  be  fond  of  sight-seeing,  too,"  she  added, 
^'  with  your  artistic  nature." 

Elfrida  seemed  to  restrain  a  smile.  ^^1  don't 
know  that  I  am,"  she  said.  ^^Pm  sorry  that  you 
didn't  leave  my  mother  so  well  as  she  ought  to  be. 
She  hasn't  mentioned  it  in  her  letters."  In  the 
course  of  time  Miss  Bell's  correspondence  with  her 
parents  had  duly  re-established  itseK. 

^^She  wouldn't,  Elf— Miss  Bell.  She  was  afraid 
of  suggesting  the  obligation  to  come  home  to  you. 
She  said  with  your  artistic  conscience  you  couldn't 
come,  and  it  would  only  be  inflicting  unnecessary 
pain  upon  you.  But  her  bronchitis  was  no  light 
matter  last  February.     She  was  real  sick." 

"My  mother  is  always  so  considerate,"  Elfrida 
answered,  reddening,  with  composed  lips.  "  She  is 
better  now,  I  think  you  said." 

"Oh  yes,  she's  some  better.  I  heard  from  her 
last  week,  and  she  says  she  doesn't  know  how  to 
wait  to  see  me  back.  That's  on  your  account,  of 
course.  Well,  I  can  tell  her  you  appear  comfort- 
able," Miss  Kimpsey  looked  around,  "  if  I  canH  tell 
her  exactly  when  you'll  be  home." 

"  That  is  so  doubtful,  just  now — " 

"  They're  introducing  drawing  from  casts  in  the 


200  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

High  School/^  Miss  Kimpsey  went  on,  with  a  note 
of  urgency  in  her  little  twanging  voice,  ^^  and  Mrs. 
Bell  told  me  I  might  just  mention  it  to  you.  She 
thinks  you  could  easily  get  taken  on  to  teach  it.  I 
just  dropped  round  to  one  or  two  of  the  principal 
trustees  the  day  before  I  left,  and  they  said  you  had 
only  to  apply.     It^s  seven  hundred  dollars  a  year." 

Elfrida's  eyebrows  contracted.  "Thanks  very 
much!  It  was  extremely  kind — to  go  to  so  much 
trouble.  But  I  have  decided  that  I  am  not  meant 
to  be  an  artist.  Miss  Kimpsey,"  she  said,  with  a  self- 
contained  smile.  "  I  think  my  mother  knows  that. 
I — I  don't  much  like  talking  about  it.  Do  you  find 
London  confusing?  I  was  dreadfully  puzzled  at 
first." 

"  I  would  if  I  were  alone.  Pd  engage  a  special 
policeman — the  policemen  are  polite,  aren't  they? 
But  we  keep  the  party  together,  you  see,  to  economize 
time,  so  none  of  us  get  lost.  We  all  went  down 
Cheapside  this  morning  and  bought  umbrellas — two 
and  three  apiece.  This  is  the  most  reasonable  place 
for  umbrellas.  But  isn't  it  ridiculous  to  pay  for 
apples  by  the  pound  f  And  then  they're  not  worth 
eating.  This  room  does  smell  of  tobacco.  I  sup- 
pose the  gentleman  in  the  apartment  below  smokes 
a  great  deal." 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  201 

^^I  think  he  does.  Tm  so  sorry.  Let  me  open 
another  window." 

"  Oh,  don't  mind  me !  I  don't  object  to  tobacco, 
except  on  board  ship.  But  it  must  be  bad  to  sleep 
in." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Elfrida  sweetly.  "And  have  you 
no  more  news  from  home  for  me.  Miss  Kimpsey  f " 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  have.  YouVe  heard  of  the 
Eev.  Mr.  Snider's  second  marriage  to  Mrs.  Abraham 
Peeley,  of  course.  There's  a  great  deal  of  feeling 
about  it  in  Sparta — the  first  Mrs.  Snider  was  so 
popular,  you  know — and  it  isn't  a  full  year.  People 
say  it  isn't  the  marriage  they  object  to  under  such 
circumstances,  it's — all  that  goes  before,"  said  Miss 
Kimpsey,  with  decorous  repression,  and  EKrida  burst 
into  a  peal  of  laughter.  "Really,"  she  sobbed,  "it's 
too  delicious.  Poor  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Snider !  Do  you 
think  people  woo  with  improper  warmth — at  that 
age,  Miss  Kimpsey  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  Miss  Kimpsey 
declared,  Avith  literal  truth.  "  I  suppose  such  things 
justify  themselves  somehow,  especially  when  it's  a 
clergyman.  And  of  course  you  know  about  your 
mother's  idea  of  coming  over  here  to  settle  ? " 

"No  !  "  said  Elfrida,  arrested.  "  She  hasn't  men- 
tioned it.     Do  they  talk  of  it  seriously  ? " 


202  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

"  I  don't  know  about  seriously,  Mr.  Bell  doesn't 
seem  as  if  he  could  make  up  his  mind.  He's  so 
fond  of  Sparta,  you  know.  But  Mrs.  Bell  is  just 
wild  to  come.  She  thinks,  of  course,  of  having  you 
to  live  with  them  again ;  and  then  she  says  that  on 
their  present  income — ^you  will  excuse  my  referring 
to  your  parents'  reduced  circumstances,  Miss  Bell  ? '' 

"  Please  go  on." 

^'Your  mother  considers  that  Mr.  Bell's  means 
would  go  further  in  England  than  in  America.  She 
asked  me  to  make  inquiries ;  and  I  must  say,  judg- 
ing from  the  price  of  umbrellas  and  woolen  goods,  I 
think  they  would." 

Elfrida  was  silent  for  a  moment,  looking  stead- 
fastly at  the  possibility  Miss  Kimpsey  had  developed. 
"  What  a  complication !  "  she  said,  half  to  herseK  j 
and  then,  observing  Miss  Kimpsey's  look  of  aston- 
ishment :  "  I  had  no  idea  of  that,"  she  repeated )  ^'  I 
wonder  that  they  have  not  mentioned  it." 

"  Well  then ! "  said  Miss  Kimpsey,  with  sudden 
compunction,  '^I  presume  they  wanted  to  surprise 
you.     And  I've  gone  and  spoiled  it !  " 

"  To  surprise  me !  "  Elfrida  repeated  in  her  ab- 
sorption. "  Oh  yes ;  very  likely !  "  Inwardly  she 
saw  her  garret,  the  garret  that  so  exhaled  her,  where 
she  had  tasted  success  and  knew  a  happiness  that 
never  altogether  failed,  vanish  into  a  snug  cottage 
in  Hampstead  or  Sm-biton.     She  saw  the  ruin  of 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  203 

her  independence,  of  her  delicious  solitariness,  of 
the  life  that  began  and  ended  in  her  sense  of  the 
strange  and  the  beautiful  and  the  grotesque  in  a 
world  of  curious  slaveries,  of  which  it  suited  her  to 
be  an  alien  spectator,  amused  and  free.  She  fore- 
saw long  conflicts  and  discussions,  pryings  which 
she  could  not  resent,  justifications  which  would  be 
forced  upon  her,  obhgations  which  she  must  not 
refuse.  More  intolerable  still,  she  saw  herself  in  the 
role  of  a  family  idol,  the  household  happiness  hing- 
ing on  her  moods,  the  question  of  her  health,  her 
work,  her  pleasure  being  eternally  the  chief  one. 
Miss  Kimpsey  talked  on  about  other  things — Wind- 
sor Castle,  the  Abbey,  the  Queen^s  stables;  and 
Elfrida  made  occasional  replies,  politely  vague.  She 
was  mechanically  twisting  the  httle  gold  hoop  on 
her  wrist,  and  thinking  of  the  artistic  sufferings  of 
a  family  idol.  Obviously  the  only  thing  was  to  de- 
stroy the  prospective  shrine. 

^'We  don^t  find  board  as  cheap  as  we  expected,^' 
Miss  Kimpsey  was  saying. 

^^  Living,  that  is  food,  is  very  expensive,^^  Elfrida 
replied  quickly;  ^^a  good  beefsteak,  for  instance, 
costs  three  francs — I  mean  two  and  fivepence,  a 
pound." 

"  I  canH  think  in  shillings ! "  Miss  Kimpsey  inter- 
posed plaintively. 

'''  And  about  this  idea  my  people  have  of  coming 


204  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

over  here — IVe  been  living  in  London  four  months 
now,  and  I  can^t  quite  see  your  grounds  for  think- 
ing it  cheaper  than  Sparta,  Miss  Kimpsey." 

^^  Of  course  you  have  had  time  to  judge  of  it." 

"  Yes.  On  the  whole  I  think  they  would  find  it 
more  expensive  and  much  less  satisfactory.  They 
would  miss  their  friends,  and  their  place  in  the  little 
world  over  there.  My  mother,  I  know,  attaches  a 
good  deal  of  importance  to  that.  They  would  have 
to  live  veiy  modestly  in  a  suburb,  and  all  the  nice 
suburbs  have  their  social  relations  in  town.  They 
wouldn't  take  the  shghtest  interest  in  English  in- 
stitutions ;  my  father  is  too  good  a  citizen  to  make 
a  good  subject,  and  they  would  find  a  great  many 
English  ideas  very — trying.  The  only  Americans 
who  are  happy  in  England  are  the  millionaires," 
Elfrida  answered.  ^^I  mean  the  millionaires  who 
are  not  too  sensitive." 

^^  Well  now,  you've  got  as  sensitive  a  nature  as  I 
know,  Miss  Bell,  and  you  don't  appear  to  be  miser- 
able over  here." 

^^  I !  "  Elfrida  frowned  just  perceptibly.  This 
little  creature  who  once  corrected  the  punctuation 
of  her  essays,  and  gave  her  bad  marks  for  spelling, 
was  too  intolerably  personal.  "  We  won't  consider 
my  case,  if  you  please.  Perhaps  Fm  not  a  good 
American." 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  205 

"  Mrs.  Bell  seems  to  think  she  would  enjoy  the 
atmosphere  of  the  past  so  much  in  London." 

^^  It's  a  fatal  atmosphere  for  asthma.  Please  im- 
press that  upon  my  people,  Miss  Kimpsey.  There 
would  be  no  justification  in  letting  my  mother 
believe  she  could  be  comfortable  here.  She  must 
come  and  experience  the  atmosphere  of  the  past,  as 
you  are  doing,  on  a  visit.  As  soon  as  it  can  be 
afforded  I  hope  they  will  do  that." 

Since  the  day  of  her  engagement  with  the  UhiS' 
trafed  Age  Elfrida  had  been  writing  long,  affection- 
ate, and  prettily  worded  letters  to  her  mother  by 
every  American  mail.  They  were  models  of  sweet 
elegance,  those  letters;  they  abounded  in  dainty 
bits  of  description  and  gay  comment,  and  they  re- 
flected as  little  of  the  real  life  of  the  girl  who  wrote 
them  as  it  is  possible  to  conceive.  In  this  way  they 
were  quite  remarkable,  and  in  their  charming  dis- 
crimination of  topics.  It  was  as  if  Elfrida  dictated 
that  a  certain  relation  should  exist  between  herself 
and  her  parents.  It  should  acknowledge  all  the 
traditions,  but  it  should  not  be  too  intimate.  They 
had  no  such  claim  upon  her,  no  such  closeness  to 
her,  as  Nadie  Palicsky,  for  instance,  had. 

When  Miss  Kimpsey  went  away  that  afternoon, 

trying  to  realize  the  intrinsic  reward  of  virtue — she 

had  been  obliged  to  give  up  the  National  Gallery 
14 


206  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

to  make  this  visit — Elfrida  remembered  that  the 
American  mail  went  out  next  day,  and  spent  a 
longer  time  than  usual  over  her  weekly  letter.  In 
its  course  she  mentioned  with  some  amusement  the 
absurd  idea  Miss  Kimpsey  had  managed  to  absorb 
of  their  coming  to  London  to  live,  and  touched  in 
the  lightest  possible  way  upon  the  considerations 
that  made  such  a  project  impossible.  But  the 
greater  part  of  the  letter  was  taken  up  with  a 
pleased  forecast  of  the  time — could  it  possibly  be 
next  summer  ? — when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bell  would  cross 
the  Atlantic  on  a  holiday  trip.  "  I  will  be  quite  an 
affluent  person  by  then/'  Elfrida  wrote,  ^'  and  I  will 
be  able  to  devote  the  whole  of  my  magnificent  lei- 
sure to  entertaining  you." 

She  turned  from  the  sealing  of  this  to  answer  a 
note  from  Lawrence  Cardiff.  He  wrote  to  her,  on 
odds  and  ends  of  matters,  almost  as  often  as  Janet 
did  now.  He  wrote  as  often,  indeed,  as  he  could, 
and  always  with  an  amused,  uncertain  expectancy 
of  what  the  consciously  directed  little  square  enve- 
lopes which  brought  back  the  reply  would  contain. 
It  was  becoming  obvious  to  him  that  they  brought 
something  a  little  different,  in  expression  or  feehng 
or  suggestion,  from  the  notes  that  came  for  Janet, 
which  Janet  often  read  out  for  their  common  bene- 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  207 

fit.  He  was  unable  to  define  the  difference,  but  he 
was  aware  that  it  gave  him  pleasure,  especially  as 
he  could  not  find  that  it  was  in  any  way  connected 
with  the  respectful  consideration  that  Elfrida  might 
have  thought  due  to  his  forty-seven  years.  If  Mr. 
Cardiff  had  gone  so  far  as  to  soliloquize  upon  the 
subject  he  would  have  said  to  himself,  ^^  In  my  trade 
a  man  gets  too  much  of  that.^'  I  do  not  know  that 
he  did,  but  the  subtle  gratification  this  difference 
gave  him  was  quite  strong  enough,  at  all  events, 
to  lead  to  the  reflection.  The  perception  of  it  was 
growing  so  vivid  that  he  instinctively  read  his  notes 
in  silence,  paraphrasing  them  for  Janet  if  she  hap- 
pened to  be  there.  They  had,  as  it  were,  a  bloom 
and  a  freshness,  a  mere  perfume  of  personality  that 
would  infallibly  vanish  in  the  communicating,  but 
that  left  him,  as  often  as  not,  when  he  slipped  the 
note  back  into  the  envelope  with  a  half  smile  on  his 
lips. 

Janet  was.  conscious  of  the  smile  and  of  the 
paraphrasing.  In  reprisal — though  she  would  not 
have  admitted  it  was  that — she  kept  her  own  mis- 
sives from  Elfrida  to  herself  whenever  it  occurred 
to  hei'  to  check  the  generous  impulse  of  sharing  the 
pleasure  they  gave  her,  which  was  not  often,  after 
all.    It  was  the  seldomer  because  she  could  not  help 


208  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY, 

feeling  that  her  father  was  thoroughly  aware  of  her 
action,  and  fancying  that  he  speculated  upon  the 
reason  of  it.  It  was  unendui^able  that  daddy  should 
speculate  about  the  reason  of  anything  she  did  in 
connection  with  Frida,  or  with  any  other  young  lady. 
Her  conduct  was  perfectly  simple ;  there  was  no  rea- 
son whatever  why  it  should  not  be  perfectly  simple. 

When  Miss  Kimpsey  arrived  at  Euston  Station 
next  day,  with  aU  her  company,  to  take  the  train 
for  Scotland,  she  found  Elfrida  waiting  for  her,  a 
picturesque  figure  in  the  hurrying  crowd,  with  her 
hair  blown  about  her  face  with  the  gusts  of  wind 
and  rain,  and  her  wide  dark  eyes  looking  quietly 
about  her.  She  had  a  bunch  of  azaleas  in  her  hand, 
and  as  Miss  Kimpsey  was  saying  with  gi*atification 
that  Elfrida^s  coming  down  to  see  her  off  was  a 
thing  she  did  not  expect,  Miss  Bell  offered  her  these 

"  They  wiU  be  pleasant  in  the  train  perhaps,'^  said 
she.  "  And  do  you  think  you  could  find  room  for 
this  in  one  of  your  boxes  ?  It  isn^t  very  bulky — a 
trifle  I  should  like  so  much  to  send  to  my  mother, 
Miss  Kimpsey.  It  might  go  by  post,  I  know,  but 
the  pleasure  will  be  much  greater  to  her  if  you  could 
take  it." 

In  due  course  Mrs.  Bell  received  the  packet.  It 
contained  a  delicate  lace  head-dress,  which  cost  El- 
frida the  full  pay  and  emoluments  of  a  fortnight. 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  209 

Mrs.  Bell  wore  it  at  all  social  gatherings  of  any  im- 
portance in  Sparta  the  following  winter,  and  often 
reflected  with  considerable  pleasure  upon  the  taste 
and  unselfishness  that  so  obviously  accompanied  the 
gift. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

If  John  Kendal  had  been  an  on-looker  at  the  little 
episode  of  Lady  Halifax's  drawing-room  in  Paris 
six  months  earlier  it  would  have  filled  him  with  the 
purest  amusement.  He  would  have  added  the  cir- 
cumstance to  his  conception  of  the  type  of  young 
woman  who  enacted  it,  and  turned  away  without 
stopping  to  consider  w^hether  it  flattered  her  or  not. 
His  comprehension  of  human  nature  was  too  catho- 
lic veiy  readily  to  permit  him  impressions  either  of 
wonder  or  contempt — it  would  have  been  a  matter 
of  registration  and  a  smile.  Realizing  this,  Kendal 
was  the  more  at  a  loss  to  explain  to  himself  the  feel- 
ing of  irritation  which  the  recollection  of  the  scene 
persistently  aroused  in  him,  in  spite  of  a  pronounced 
disposition,  of  which  he  could  not  help  being  aware, 
not  to  register  it  but  to  ignore  it.  His  memory  re- 
fused to  be  a  pai'ty  to  his  intention,  and  the  tableau 
recurred  to  him  with  a  persistence  which  he  found 
distinctly  disagreeable.  Upon  every  social  occasion 
which  brought  young  ladies  of  beauty  and  middle- 
aged  gentlemen  of  impressive  eminence  into  con- 
210    " 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  211 

versational  contact  he  saw  the  thing  in  imagination 
done  again.  In  the  end  it  suggested  itself  to  him  as 
paintable — the  astonished  drawing-room,  the  grace- 
ful half -kneeling  gii-1  with  the  bent  head,  the  other 
dismayed  and  uncomprehending  figure  yielding  a 
doubtful  hand,  his  discomfort  indicated  in  the  very 
lines  of  his  waistcoat.  ^^A  Fin  de  Siecle  Tribute/^  Ken- 
dal named  it.  He  dismissed  the  idea  as  absurd,  and 
then  reconsidered  it  as  a  means  of  disposing  of  the 
incident  finally.  He  knew  it  could  be  very  effectu- 
ally put  away  in  canvas.  He  assured  himself  again 
that  he  could  not  entertain  the  idea  of  painting  it 
seriously,  and  that  this  was  because  of  the  inevitable 
tendency  which  the  subject  would  have  toward  car- 
icature. Kendal  had  an  indignant  contempt  for 
such  a  tendency,  and  the  liberty  which  men  who 
used  it  took  with  their  art.  He  had  never  descended 
to  the  flouting  of  his  own  aims  which  it  implied. 
He  threw  himself  into  his  pictures  without  reserve ; 
it  was  the  best  of  him  that  he  painted,  the  strongest 
he  could  do,  and  all  he  could  doj  he  was  sincere 
enough  to  take  it  always  seriously.  The  possibility 
of  caricature  seemed  to  him  to  account  admirably 
for  his  reluctance  to  paint  "J.  Fin  de  Siecle  Trihute,^^ 
— it  was  a  matter  of  conscience.  He  found  that  the 
desire  to  paint  it  would  not  go,  however  j  it  took 
daily  more  complete  possession  of  him,  and  fought 


212  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

his  scruples  with  a  strong  hand.  It  was  a  fortnight 
after,  and  he  had  not  seen  EKrida  in  the  meantime, 
when  they  were  finally  defeated  by  the  argument 
that  a  sketch  would  show  whether  caricature  were 
necessarily  inherent  or  not.  He  would  make  a  sketch 
purely  for  his  own  satisfaction.  Under  the  cir- 
cumstances Kendal  realized  perfectly  that  it  could 
never  be  for  exhibition,  and  indeed  he  felt  a  singu- 
lar shrinking  from  the  idea  that  any  one  should  see 
it.  Finally,  he  gave  a  whole  day  to  the  thing,  and 
made  an  admirable  sketch. 

After  that  Kendal  felt  free  to  make  the  most  of 
his  opportunities  of  seeing  EKrida — his  irritation 
with  her  subsided,  her  blunder  had  been  settled  to 
his  satisfaction.  He  had  an  obscure  idea  of  having 
inflicted  discipline  upon  her  in  giving  the  incident 
form  and  color  upon  canvas,  in  arresting  its  gro- 
tesqueness  and  sounding  its  true  motif  with  a  pic- 
torial tongue.  It  was  his  conception  of  the  girl  that 
he  punished,  and  he  let  his  fascinated  speculation 
go  out  to  her  afterward  at  a  redoubled  rate.  She 
brought  him  sometimes  to  the  verge  of  approval,  to 
the  edge  of  liking ;  and  when  he  found  that  he  could 
not  take  the  further  step  he  told  himself  impatiently 
that  it  was  not  a  case  for  anything  so  ordinary  as 
approval,  or  anything  so  personal  as  liking ;  it  was 
a  matter  of  observation,  enjoyment,  stimulus.    He 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  213 

availed  himself  of  these  abstractions  with  a  candor 
that  was  the  more  open  for  not  being  compli- 
cated with  any  less  hardy  motive.  He  had  long 
ago  decided  that  relations  of  sentiment  with  Elfrida 
wonld  require  a  temperament  quite  different  from 
that  of  any  man  he  knew.  It  was  entirely  other- 
wise with  Janet  Cardiff,  and  Kendal  smiled  as  he 
thought  of  the  feminine  variation  the  two  girls  illus- 
trated. He  had  a  distinct  recollection  of  one  crisp 
October  afternoon  before  he  went  to  Paris,  as  they 
walked  home  together  under  the  brown  curling 
leaves  and  passed  the  Serpentine,  when  he  had  found 
that  the  old  charm  of  Janet^s  gray  eyes  was  changing 
to  a  new  one.  He  remembered  the  pleasure  he  had 
felt  in  dallying  with  the  thought  of  making  them 
lustrous,  one  day,  with  tenderness  for  himself.  It 
had  paled  since  then,  there  had  been  so  many  other 
things;  but  stiU  they  were  dear,  honest  eyes — and 
Kendal  never  brought  his  reverie  to  a  conclusion 
under  any  circumstances  whatever. 


CHAPTEE  XIX. 

I  HAVE  mentioned  that  Miss  Bell  had  looked  con- 
siderations of  sentiment  very  full  in  the  face  at  an 
age  when  she  might  have  been  expected  to  be  blush- 
ing and  quivering  before  them,  with  downcast  coun- 
tenance. She  had  arrived  at  conclusions  about  them 
— conclusions  of  philosophic  contumely,  indifference, 
and  some  contempt.  She  had  since  frequently  talked 
about  them  to  Janet  Cardiff  with  curious  disregard  of 
time  and  circumstance,  mentioning  her  opinion  in  a 
Strand  omnibus,  for  instance,  that  the  only  dignity 
attaching  to  love  as  between  a  man  and  a  woman 
was  that  of  an  artistic  idea.  Janet  had  found 
Elfrida  possessed  of  so  savage  a  literalism  in  this 
regard  that  it  was  only  in  the  most  hardily  ad- 
venturous of  the  moods  of  investigation  her  friend 
inspired  that  she  cared  to  combat  her  here.  It  was 
not,  Janet  told  herself,  that  she  was  afraid  to  face 
the  truth  in  any  degree  of  nakedness ;  but  she  rose 
in  hot  inward  rebellion  against  Elfrida's  borrowed 
psychological  cynicisms — they  were  not  the  truth, 
Tolstoi  had  not  all  the  facts,  perhaps  from  pure  Mus- 

214 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  215 

covite  inability  to  comprehend  them  all.  The  spir- 
ituality of  love  might  be  a  western  product — she  was 
half  incHned  to  think  it  was ;  but  at  all  events  it  ex- 
isted, and  it  was  wanton  to  leave  out  of  considera- 
tion a  thing  that  made  all  the  difference.  Moreover, 
if  these  things  ought  to  be  probed — and  Janet  was 
not  of  serious  opinion  that  they  ought  to  be — for 
her  part  she  preferred  to  obtain  advices  thereon 
from  between  admissible  and  respectable  book- 
covers.  It  hurt  her  to  hear  them  drop  from  El- 
f rida's  lips — lips  so  plainly  meant  for  all  tenderness. 
Janet  had  an  instinct  of  helpless  anger  when  she 
heard  themj  the  woman  in  her  rose  in  protest,  less 
on  behalf  of  her  sex  than  on  behalf  of  Elf  rida  her- 
self, who  seemed  so  blind,  so  willing  to  revile,  so 
anxious  to  reject.  "  Do  you  really  hope  you  Avill 
marry  1 "  Elf  rida  had  asked  her  once  j  and  Janet  had 
answered  candidly,  ^^  Of  course  I  do,  and  I  want  to 
die  a  grandmother  too.^'  ^^  Vraiment !  ^'  exclaimed 
Miss  Bell  ironically,  with  a  httle  shudder  of  disgust, 
^'  I  hope  you  may !  " 

That  was  in  the  very  beginning  of  their  friend- 
ship, however,  and  so  vital  a  subject  could  not  re- 
main outside  the  relations  which  established  them- 
selves more  and  more  intimately  between  them  as 
the  days  went  on.  Janet  began  to  find  herself  con- 
stantly in  the  presence  of  a  temptation  to  bring  the 


216  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

matter  home  to  EKrida  personally  in  one  way  or 
another,  as  young  women  commonly  do  with  other 
young  women  who  are  obstinately  unorthodox  in 
these  things — to  say  to  her  in  effect,  ^'Your  turn 
will  come  when  he  comes!  These  pseudo-philo- 
sophies will  vanish  when  he  looks  at  them,  like 
snow  in  spring.  You  will  succumb — ^you  will  suc- 
cumb !  "  But  she  never  did.  Something  in  Elfrida's 
attitude  forbade  it.  Her  opinions  were  not  vaga- 
ries, and  she  held  them,  so  far  as  they  had  a  personal 
application,  haughtily.  Janet  felt  and  disliked  the 
tacit  limitation,  and  preferred  to  avoid  the  clash  of 
their  opinions  when  she  could.  Besides,  her  own 
ideas  upon  the  subject  had  latterly  retired  irretriev- 
ably from  the  light  of  discussion.  She  had  one  day 
found  it  necessary  to  lock  the  door  of  her  soul  upon 
them ;  in  the  new  knowledge  that  had  taken  sweet 
possession  of  her  she  recognized  that  they  were  no 
longer  theoretical,  that  they  must  be  put  away.  She 
challenged  herself  to  sit  in  a  jury  upon  Love,  and 
found  herself  disqualified. 

The  discovery  had  no  remarkable  effect  upon 
Janet.  She  sometimes  wasted  an  hour,  pen  in  hand, 
in  inconsequent  reverie,  and  worked  till  midnight  to 
make  up;  and  she  took  a  great  liking  for  imper- 
sonal conversations  with  Miss  Halifax  about  Ken- 
dal's pictm'es,  methods  and  meanings.    She  found 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  217 

dining  in  Royal  Geographical  circles  less  of  a  bore 
than  usual,  and  deliberately  laid  herself  out  to  talk 
well.  She  looked  in  the  glass  sometimes  at  a  little 
vertical  Hue  that  seemed  to  be  coming  at  the  corners 
of  her  mouth,  and  wondered  whether  at  twenty-four 
one  might  expect  the  first  indication  of  approaching 
old-maidenhood.  When  she  was  paler  than  usual 
she  reflected  that  the  season  was  taking  a  good  deal 
out  of  her.  She  was  bravety  and  rigidly  common- 
place with  Kendal,  who  told  her  that  she  ought  to 
drop  it  and  go  out  of  town — she  was  not  looking 
well.  She  drew  closer  to  her  father,  and  at  the 
same  time  armed  her  secret  against  him  at  all 
points.  Janet  would  have  had  any  one  know  rather 
than  he.  She  felt  that  it  implied  almost  a  breach 
of  faith,  of  comradeship,  to  say  nothing  of  the  com- 
plication of  her  dignity,  which  she  wanted  upheld 
in  his  eyes  before  all  others.  In  reality  she  made 
him  more  the  sovereign  of  her  affections  and  the 
censor  of  her  relations  than  nature  designed  Law- 
rence Cardiff  to  be  in  the  parental  connection.  It 
gave  him  great  pleasure  that  he  could  make  his 
daughter  a  friend,  and  accord  her  the  independence 
of  a  friend;  it  was  a  satisfaction  to  him  that  she 
was  not  obtrusively  filial.  Her  feeling  for  Kendal, 
under  the  circumstances,  would  have  hurt  him  if  he 
had  known  of  it,  but  only  through  his  sympathy 


218  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY, 

and  his  affection — ^he  was  unacquainted  witli  the 
jealousy  of  a  father.  But  in  Janet^s  eyes  they  made 
their  little  world  together,  indispensable  to  each 
other  as  its  imaginary  hemispheres.  She  had  a  quiet 
pain,  in  the  infrequent  moments  when  she  allowed 
herself  the  full  reahzation  of  her  love  for  Kendal, 
in  the  knowledge  that  she,  of  her  own  motion,  had 
disturbed  its  unities  and  its  ascendancies. 

Since  that  evening  at  Lady  Halifax^s,  when  Janet 
saw  John  Kendal  reddening  so  unaccountably,  she 
had  felt  singularly  more  tolerant  of  Elfrida's  the- 
ories. She  combated  them  as  vigorously  as  ever, 
but  she  lost  her  dislike  to  discussing  them.  As  it 
became  more  and  more  obvious  that  Kendal  found 
in  Elfrida  a  reward  for  the  considerable  amount  of 
time  he  spent  in  her  society,  so  Janet  arrived  at  the 
point  of  encouraging  her  heresies,  especially  with 
their  personal  application.  She  took  secret  comfort 
in  them ;  she  hoped  they  would  not  change,  and  she 
was  too  honest  to  disguise  to  herself  the  reason.  If 
Elfrida  cared  for  him,  Janet  assured  herself,  the 
case  would  be  entirely  different — she  would  stamp 
out  her  own  feeling  without  mercy,  to  the  tiniest 
spark.  She  would  be  glad,  in  time,  to  have  crushed 
it  for  Elfrida,  though  it  did  seem  that  it  would 
be  more  easily  done  for  a  stranger,  somebody  she 
wouldn't  have  to  know  afterward.    But  if  EKrida 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  219 

didn't  care^  as  a  matter  of  principle  Janet  was  un- 
able to  see  the  least  harm  in  making  her  say  so  as 
often  as  possible.  They  were  talking  together  in 
Mr.  Cardiff's  library  late  one  June  afternoon,  when 
it  seemed  to  Janet  that  the  crisis  came,  that  she 
could  never  again  speak  of  such  matters  to  Elfrida 
without  betraying  herself.  Things  were  growing 
dim  about  the  room,  the  trees  stood  in  dusky  groups 
in  the  square  outside.  There  was  the  white  glim- 
mer of  the  tea-things  between  them,  and  just  light 
enough  to  define  the  shadows  round. the  other  girPs 
face,  and  write  upon  it  the  difference  it  bore,  in 
Janet's  eyes,  to  every  other  face. 

^'  Oh !  "  Elfrida  was  saying,  "  it  does  make  life 
more  interesting,  I  admit — up  to  a  certain  point. 
And  I  suppose  it's  to  be  condoned  from  the  point  of 
view  of  the  species.  Whoever  started  us,  and  wants 
us  to  go  on,  excuses  marriage,  I  suppose.  And  of 
course  the  men  are  not  affected  by  it.  But  for 
women,  it  is  degrading — horrible.  Especially  for 
women  hke  you  and  me,  to  whom  life  may  mean 
something  else.  Fancy  being  the  author  of  babies 
when  one  could  be  the  author  of  books  !  Don^t  tell 
me  you'd  rather !  '^ 

^ai"  said  Janet.  ^^Oh,  I'm  out  of  it.  But  I 
approve  the  principle." 

^^  Besides,  the  commonplaceness,  the  eternal  rou- 


220  A  DAUGHTER  OP  TO-DAY. 

tine,  the  being  tied  together,  the — the  domestic  vir- 
tues! It  must  be  death,  absolute  death,  to  any 
fineness  of  nature.  No,"  Elfrida  went  on  decisively, 
"people  with  anything  in  them  that  is  worth  sav- 
ing may  love  as  much  as  they  feel  disposed,  but 
they  ought  to  keep  their  freedom.  And  some  of 
them  do  nowadays." 

"Do  you  mean,"  said  Janet  slowly,  "that  they 
dispense  with  the  ceremony  1 " 

"  They  dispense  with  the  condition.  They — they 
don^t  go  so  far." 

"  I  thought  you  didn^t  beheve  in  Platonics,"  Janet 
answered,  with  wilful  misunderstanding. 

"  You  know  I  don't  believe  in  them.  Any  more," 
Elfrida  added  lightly,  "  than  I  beheve  in  this  exal- 
tation you  impute  to  the  race  of  a  passion  it  shares 
with — with  the  mollusks.     It's  pure  self -flattery." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Elfrida  clasped  her 
hands  behind  her  head  and  turned  her  face  toward 
the  window  so  that  aU  the  light  that  came  through 
softly  gathered  in  it.  Janet  felt  the  girl's  beauty 
as  if  it  were  a  burden,  pressing  with  literal  physical 
weight  upon  her  heart.  She  made  a  futile  effort 
to  Hf t  it  with  words.  "  Frida,"  she  said,  "  you  are 
beautiful  to — to  hurt  to-night.  Why  has  nobody 
ever  painted  a  creature  like  you  ? " 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  221 

It  was  as  if  she  touched  an  inner  spring  of  the 
girVs  nature,  touched  it  electrically.  Elfrida  leaned 
forward  consciously  with  shiuing  eyes.  ^^  Truly  am 
I,  Janetta  ?  Ah — to-night !  Well,  yes,  perhaps  to- 
night, I  am.  It  is  an  effect  of  chiaroscuro.  But 
what  about  always — what  about  generally,  Janetta  ? 
I  have  such  horrid  doubts.  If  it  weren^t  for  my 
nose  I  shoTlld  be  satisfied — yes,  I  think  I  should  be 
satisfied.  But  I  can^t  deceive  myself  about  my  nose, 
Janetta ;  it's  thick !  " 

"It  isn't  a  particularly  spiritually-minded  nose," 
Janet  laughed.  "  But  console  yourself,  it's  thought- 
ful." 

Elfrida  put  her  elbows  on  her  knees  and  framed 
her  face  with  the  palms  of  her  hands.  "If  I  am 
beautifiil  to-night  you  ought  to  love  me.  Do  you 
love  me,  Janetta  ?  Really  love  me  ?  Could  you  im- 
agine," she  went  on,  with  a  whimsical  spoiled  shake 
of  her  head,  "any  one  else  doing  it?" 

Janet's  fingers  closed  tightly  on  the  arm  of  her 
chair.     Was  it  coming  already,  then  ? 

"  Yes,"  she  said  slowly,  "  I  could  imagine  it  well." 

"More  than  one?"  Elfrida  insisted  prettily. 
"  More  than  two  or  three  ?     A  dozen,  perhaps  ? " 

"Quite  a  dozen,"  Janet  smiled.  "Is  that  to  be 
the  limit  of  your  heartless  proceedings  ? " 

15 


222  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

"  I  don't  know  how  soon  one  would  grow  feed  of 
it.  Maybe  in  three  or  four  years.  But  for  now — 
it  is  very  amusing.^'      . 

"Playing  with  fireT' 

"  Bah !  ^'  EKrida  returned,  going  back  to  her 
other  mood.  "  Pm  not  inflammable.  But  to  that  ex- 
tent, if  you  like,  I  value  what  you  and  the  poets  are 
pleased  to  call  love.  It's  part  of  the  game  5  one 
might  as  well  play  it  all.  It's  splendid  to  win — any- 
thing.    It's  a  kind  of  success.'^ 

"  Oh,  I  know,"  she  went  on  after  an  instant.  "  I 
have  done  it  before — I  shall  do  it  again,  often !  It 
is  worth  doing — to  sit  within  three  feet  of  a  human 
being  who  would  give  all  he  possesses  just  to  touch 
your  hand — and  to  tacitly  dare  him  to  do  it.'' 

"  Stop,  Elfrida !  " 

"  Shan't  stop,  my  dear.  Not  only  to  be  able  to 
check  any  such  demonstration  yourself,  with  a 
movement,  a  glance,  a  turn  of  your  head,  but  with- 
out even  a  sign,  to  make  your  would-be  adorer  check 
it  himself !  And  to  feel  as  stiU  and  calm  and  supe- 
rior to  it  all !     Is  that  nothing  to  you  ? " 

"  It's  less  than  nothing.     It's  hideous  !  " 

"  I  consider  it  a  compensation  vested  in  the  few 
for  the  wrongs  of  the  many,"  Elfrida  replied  gaily. 
"  And  I  mean  to  store  up  all  the  compensation  in 
my  proper  person  that  I  can." 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  223 

"I  believe  you  have  had  more  than  your  share 
abeady,"  Janet  cried. 

^^  Oh  no  !  a  little,  only  a  little.  Hardly  anything 
here — people  fall  in  love  in  England  in  such  a 
mathematical  way.  But  there  is  a  callow  artist  on 
the  AgCj  and  Golightly  Ticke  has  become  quite  mad 
lately,  and  Solomon — I  mean  Mr.  Rattray — will  pro- 
pose next  week — he  thinks  I  won't  dare  to  refuse  the 
sub-editor.  How  I  shall  laugh  at  him !  Afterward, 
if  he  gives  me  any  trouble,  I  shall  threaten  to  write 
up  the  interview  for  the  Pictorial  News,  On  the 
whole  though,  I  dare  say  Pd  better  not  suggest  such 
a  thing ;  he  would  want  it  for  the  Age.  He  is  equal 
to  any  personal  sacrifice  for  the  AgeJ^ 

"Is  that  all?''  asked  Janet,  turning  away  her 
head. 

"  You  are  thinking  of  John  Kendal !  Ah,  there 
it  becomes  exciting.  From  what  you  see,  Janetta 
mm,  what  should  you  thinh  f  Myself,  I  don't  quite 
know.  Don't  you  find  him  rather — a  good  deal — 
interested ! " 

Janet  had  an  impulse  of  thankfulness  for  the 
growing  darkness.  "  I — I  see  him  so  seldom  !  "  she 
said.  Oh,  it  was  the  last  time,  the  very  last  time, 
that  she  would  ever  let  Elfrida  talk  like  this. 

"  Well,  I  think  so,"  Elfrida  went  on  coolly.  "  He 
fancies  he  finds  me  curious,  original,  a  type — ^just 


224  A  DAUGHTER   OF  TO-DAY. 

now.  I  dare  say  he  thinks  he  takes  an  anthropolog- 
ical pleasure  in  my  society !  But  in  the  beginniag 
it  is  aU  the  same  thing,  my  dear,  and  in  the  end  it 
will  be  all  the  same  thing.  This  dehcious  Loti,"  and 
she  picked  up  "  Aziade  " — "  what  an  anthropologist 
he  is — with  a  feminine  bias !  " 

Janet  was  tongue-tied.  She  struggled  with  her- 
self for  an  instant,  and  then,  "  I  tvish  you^d  stay  and 
dine,"  she  said  desperately. 

"  How  thoughtless  of  me ! "  Elfrida  rephed,  jump- 
ing up.  "You  ought  to  be  dressing,  dear.  No, 
I  can't  5  Pve  got  to  sup  with  some  ladies  of  the 
Alhambra  to-night — it  will  make  such  lovely  copy. 
But  I'll  go  now,  this  very  instant." 

Half-way  downstairs  Janet,  in  a  passion  of  help- 
less tears,  heard  Elfrida's  footsteps  pause  and  turn. 
She  stepped  swiftly  into  her  own  room  and  locked 
the  door.  The  footsteps  came  tripping  back  into 
the  library,  and  then  a  tap  sounded  on  Janet's  door. 
Outside  Elfrida's  voice  said  plaintively,  "I  had  to 
come  back.  Do  you  love  me — are  you  quite  sure 
you  love  me  ? " 

"Ton  humbug !  "  Janet  called  from  within,  steady- 
ing her  voice  with  an  effort,  ^^Vm  not  at  all  sure.  Til 
teU  you  to-morrow !  " 

*'  But  you  do !  "  cried  Elfrida,  departing.  "  I  know 
you  do." 


CHAPTER   XX. 

July  thickened  down  upon  London.  The  society 
papers  announced  that  with  the  exception  of  the 
few  unfortunate  gentlemen  who  were  compelled  to 
stay  and  look  after  their  constituents^  interests  at 
Westminster,  "everybody^'  had  gone  out  of  town, 
and  filled  up  yawning  columns  with  detailed  infor- 
mation as  to  everybody's  destination.  To  an  inex- 
perienced eye,  with  the  point  of  view  of  the  top  of 
an  Uxbridge  Road  omnibus  for  instance,  it  might 
not  appear  that  London  had  diminished  more  than 
to  the  extent  of  a  few  powdered  footmen  on  carriage 
boxes  J  but  the  census  of  the  London  world  is  after 
all  not  to  be  taken  from  the  top  of  an  Uxbridge 
Road  omnibus.  London  teemed  emptily,  the  tall 
houses  in  the  narrow  lanes  of  Mayfair  slept  stand- 
ing, the  sunlight  filtered  through  a  depressing  haze 
and  stood  still  in  the  streets  for  hours  together.  In 
the  Park  the  policemen  wooed  the  nursery-maids 
free  from  the  embarrassing  smiling  scrutiny  of 
people  to  whom  this  serious  preoccupation  is  a 
diversion.  The  main  thoroughfares  were  full  of 
225 


226  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

"summer  sales,"  St.  Paulas  echoed  to  admiring 
Transatlantic  criticism,  and  the  Bloom  sbnry  board- 
ing-houses to  voluble  Transatlantic  complaint. 

The  Halifaxes  were  at  Brighton,  Lady  Halifax 
giving  musical  t^as.  Miss  Halifax  painting  marine 
views  in  a  little  book.  Miss  Halifax  called  them 
"impressions,"  and  always  distributed  them  at  the 
musical  teas.  The  Cardiffs  had  gone  to  Scotland 
for  golf,  and  later  on  for  grouse.  Janet  was  almost 
as  expert  on  the  links  as  her  father,  and  was  on  very 
familiar  terms  with  a  certain  Highland  moor  and 
one  Donald  Macleod.  They  had  laid  every  compul- 
sion upon  Elfrida  to  go  with  them,  in  vain  j  the  girPs 
sensitiveness  on  the  point  of  money  obligations  was 
intense,  and  Janet  failed  to  measure  it  accurately 
when  she  allowed  herself  to  feel  hurt  that  their 
relations  did  not  preclude  the  necessity  for  taking 
any  thought  as  to  who  paid.  Elfrida  staid,  how- 
ever, in  her  by-way  of  Fleet  Street,  and  did  a  little 
bit  of  excellent  work  for  the  Illustrated  Age  every 
day.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  editor-in-chief,  Rat- 
tray would  have  extended  her  scope  on  the  paper ; 
but  the  editor-in-chief  said  no.  Miss  Bell  was  dan- 
gerous, there  was  no  telling  what  she  might  be  up 
to  if  they  gave  her  the  reins.  She  went  very  well, 
but  she  was  all  the  better  for  the  severest  kind  of  a 
bit.     So  Miss  Bell  wrote  about  colonial  exhibitions 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  227 

and  popular  spectacles,  and  country  outings  for 
babies  of  the  slums,  and  longed  for  a  fairer  field.  As 
midsummer  came  on  there  arrived  a  dearth  in  these 
objects  of  orthodox  interest,  and  Rattray  told  her 
she  might  submit  ^^  anything  on  the  nail^^  that 
occurred  to  her,  in  addition  to  such  work  as  the 
office  could  give  her  to  do.  Then,  in  spite  -of  the 
vigilance  of  the  editor-in-chief,  an  odd  unconven- 
tional bit  of  writing  crept  now  and  then  into  the 
Age — an  interview  with  some  eccentric  notability 
with  the  piquancy  of  a  page  from  Gryp,  a  bit  of 
pathos  picked  out  of  the  common  streets,  a  frag- 
ment of  character-drawing  which  smiled  visibly 
and  talked  audibly.  Elfrida  in  her  gan-et  drew  a 
joy  from  these  things.  She  cut  them  out  and  read 
them  over  and  over  again,  and  put  them  sacredly 
away,  with  Nadie's  letters  and  a  manuscript  poem  of 
a  certain  Bruynotin's,  and  a  scrawl  from  one  Hak- 
koff,  with  a  vigorous  sketch  of  herself,  from  memory, 
in  pen  and  ink  in  the  corner  of  the  page,  in  the  little 
eastern-smeUing  wooden  box  which  seemed  to  her 
to  represent  the  core  of  her  existence.  They  quick- 
ened her  pulse,  they  gave  her  a  curious  uplifted 
happiness  that  took  absolutely  no  account  of  any 
other  circumstance. 

There  were    days  when   Mrs.   Jordan  had  real 
twinges  of  conscience  about  the  quality  of  Miss 


228  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

Bellas  steak.  "  But  there,"  Mrs.  Jordan  would  soothe 
herself,  "I  might  bring  her  the  best  sulline,  and 
she  wouldn't  know  no  diffrence."  In  other  prac- 
tical respects  the  girl  was  equally  indifferent.  Her 
clothes  were  shabby,  and  she  did  not  seem  to  think 
of  replacing  them ;  Mrs.  Jordan  made  preposterous 
charges  for  candles,  and  she  paid  them  without  ques- 
tion. She  tipped  people  who  did  little  services  for 
her  with  a  kind  of  royal  delicacy;  the  girl  who 
scrubbed  the  landings  worshipped  her,  and  the  boy 
who  came  every  day  for  her  copy  once  brought  her 
a  resplendent  ''button-hole"  consisting  of  two  pink 
rosebuds  and  a  scarlet  geranium,  tendering  it  with 
a  shy  lie  to  the  effect  that  he  had  found  it  in  the 
street.  She  went  alone  now  and  again  to  the  opera, 
taking  an  obscure  place,  and  she  lived  a  good  deal 
among  the  foreign  art  exhibitions  of  Bond  Street. 
Once  she  bought  an  etching  and  brought  it  home 
under  her  arm.  That  kept  her  poor  for  a  month, 
though  she  would  have  been  less  aware  of  it  if  she 
had  not,  before  the  month  was  out,  wanted  to  buy 
another.  A  great  Parisian  actress  had  made  her 
yearly  visit  to  London  in  June,  and  Elfrida,  con- 
juring with  the  name  of  the  Illustrated  Age,  won  an 
appointment  from  her.  The  artiste  staid  only  a 
fortnight — she  declared  that  one  half  of  an  English 
audience  came  to  see  her  because  it  was  proper  and 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  229 

the  other  because  it  was  sinful,  and  she  found  it 
insupportable — and  in  that  time  she  asked  Elfrida 
three  times  to  pay  her  morning  visits,  when  she 
appeared  in  her  dressing-gown,  little  unconven- 
tional visits  ^^poiir  havarderJ^  When  Miss  Bell 
lacked  entertainment  during  the  weeks  that  fol- 
lowed she  thought  of  these  visits,  and  little  smiles 
chased  each  other  round  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 

She  wrote  to  Janet  when  she  was  in  the  mood — 
delicious  scraps  of  letters,  broad-margined,  fantastic, 
each,  so  far  as  charm  went,  a  little  literary  gem  dis- 
guised in  wilfulness,  in  a  picture,  in  a  diamond-cut 
cynicism  that  shone  sharper  and  clearer  for  the 
dainty  affectation  of  its  setting.  When  she  was  not 
in  the  mood  she  did  not  write  at  all.  With  an  in- 
stinctive recognition  of  the  demands  of  any  relation 
such  as  she  felt  her  friendship  with  Janet  Cardiff 
to  be,  she  simply  refrained  from  imposing  upon  her 
anything  that  savored  of  dullness  or  commonplace- 
ness.  So  that  sometimes  she  wrote  three  or  four 
times  in  a  week  and  sometimes  not  at  all  for  a  fort- 
night, sometimes  covered  pages  and  sometimes  sent 
three  lines  and  a  row  of  asterisks.  There  was  a 
fancifulness  in  the  hour  as  well,  that  usually  made 
itself  felt  all  through  the  letter — it  was  rainy  twi- 
light in  her  garret,  or  a  gray  wideness  was  creeping 
up  behind  St.  Paul's,  which  meant  that  it  was  morn- 


230  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

ing.  To  what  she  herself  was  actually  doings  or 
to  any  material  fact  about  her,  they  made  the  very 
slightest  reference.  Janet,  in  Scotland,  perceived 
half  of  this,  and  felt  aggrieved  on  the  score  of  the 
other  half.  She  wished,  more  often  than  she  said 
she  did,  that  Elfrida  were  a  little  more  human,  that 
she  had  a  more  appreciative  understanding  of  the 
warm  value  of  common  every-day  matters  between 
people  who  were  interested  in  one  another.  The 
subtle  imprisoned  soul  in  Elfrida^s  letters  always 
spoke  to  hers,  but  Janet  never  received  so  artistic  a 
missive  of  three  lines  that  she  did  not  wish  it  were 
longer,  and  she  had  no  fund  of  confidence  to  draw 
on  to  meet  her  friend's  incomprehensible  spaces  of 
silence.  To  cover  her  real  soreness  she  scolded, 
chaffed  brusquely,  affected  lofty  sarcasms. 

'^Twelve  days  ago,"  she  wrote,  "you  mentioned 
casually  that  you  were  threatened  with  pneu- 
monia; your  communication  of  to-day  j^ou  devote 
to  proving  that  Hector  Malot  is  a  carpenter.  I 
agree  with  you  with  reservations,  but  the  sequence 
worries  me.  In  the  meantime  have  you  had  the 
pneumonia  ? '' 

Her  own  letters  were  long  and  gossipping,  full 
of  the  scent  of  the  heather  and  the  eccentricities  of 
Donald    Macleod;  and  she  wrote  them  regtdarly 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  231 

twice  a  week,  using  rainy  afternoons  for  the  pur- 
pose and  every  inch  of  the  paper  at  her  disposal. 
Elfrida  put  a  very  few  of  them  into  the  wooden 
box,  just  as  she  would  have  embalmed,  if  she  could, 
a  very  few  of  the  half -hours  they  had  spent  together. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

John  Kendal  had  turned  the  key  upon  his 
dusty  work-room  in  Bryanston  Street  among  the 
first  of  those  who,  according  to  the  papers,  depop- 
ulated London  in  July.  He  had  an  old  engage- 
ment to  keep,  which  took  him,  with  Carew  of  the 
Dial  and  Limley  of  the  Civil  Service,  to  explore 
and  fish  in  the  Norwegian  fjords.  The  project 
matured  suddenly,  and  he  left  town  without  see- 
ing anybody — a  necessity  which  disturbed  him  a 
number  of  times  on  the  voyage.  He  wrote  a  hasty 
line  to  Janet,  returning  a  borrowed  book,  and  sent 
a  trivial  message  to  Elfrida,  whom  he  knew  to  be 
spending  a  few  days  in  Kensington  Square  at  the 
time.  Janet  delivered  it  with  an  intensity  of  quiet 
pleasure  which  she  showed  extraordinary  skill  in 
concealing.  "  May  I  ask  you  to  say  to  Miss  Bell — '' 
seemed  to  her  to  be  eloquent  of  many  things.  She 
looked  at  Elfrida  with  inquiry,  in  spite  of  herself, 
when  she  gave  the  message,  but  EKrida  received 
ifc  with  a  nod  and  a  smile  of  perfect  indifference. 
232 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  233 

^^  It  is  because  she  does  not  care — does  not  care  an 
iota,^^  Janet  told  herself  j  and  all  that  day  it  seemed 
to  her  that  Elfrida^s  personality  was  inexhaustibly 
delightful. 

Afterward,  however,  one  or  two  letters  found  their 
way  into  the  sandal-wood  box,  bearing  the  Norwe- 
gian postmark.  They  came  seldomer  than  Elfrida 
expected.  "  Unjin  !  "  she  said  when  the  first  arrived, 
and  she  felt  her  pulse  beat  a  little  faster  as  she 
opened  it.  She  read  it  eagerly,  with  serious  lips, 
thinking  how  fine  he  was,  and  with  what  exquisite 
force  he  brought  himself  to  her  as  he  wrote.  ^'I 
must  be  a  very  exceptional  person,"  she  said  in  her 
reverie  afterward,  ^'  to  have  such  things  written  to 
me.  I  must — I  must ! "  Then  as  she  put  the  letter 
away  she  reflected  that  she  couldn^t  amuse  herself 
with  Kendal  without  treachery  to  their  artistic  rela- 
tionship ;  there  would  be  somehow  an  outrage  in  it. 
And  she  would  not  amuse  herself  with  him  5  she 
would  sacrifice  that,  and  be  quite  frank  and  simple 
always.  So  that  when  it  came  to  pass — here  Elfrida 
retired  into  a  lower  depth  of  consciousness — there 
would  be  only  a  little  pity  and  a  little  pain,  and  no 
reproach  or  regret.  There  was  a  delay  in  the  amval 
of  the  next  letter  which  Elfrida  felt  to  be  unaccount- 
able, a  delay  of  nearly  three  weeks.  She  took  it 
with  an  odd  rush  of  feeling  from  the  hand  of  the 


234  A   DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

housemaid  who  brought  it  up,  and  locked  herself  in 
alone  with  it. 

A  few  days  later,  driving  through  Bryanston 
Street  in  a  hansom,  Elfrida  saw  the  windows  of 
Kendal's  studio  wide  open.  She  leaned  forward  to 
realize  it  with  a  little  tumult  of  excitement  at  the 
possibility  it  indicated,  haK  turned  to  bid  the  cab- 
man stop,  and  roUed  on  undecided.  Presently  she 
spoke  to  him. 

^^  Please  go  back  to  number  sixty-three,"  she  said, 
"  I  want  to  get  out  there,"  and  in  a  moment  or  two 
she  was  tripping  lightly  up  the  stairs. 

Kendal,  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  with  his  back  to  the 
door,  was  bending  over  a  palette  that  clung  obsti- 
nately to  the  hardened  round  dabs  of  color  he  had 
left  upon  it  six  weeks  before.  He  threw  it  down  at 
Elfrida's  step,  and  turned  with  a  sudden  light  of 
pleasure  in  his  face  to  see  her  framed  in  the  door- 
way, looking  at  him  with  an  odd  shyness  and  silence. 
"You  spirit !  "  he  cried,  "how  did  you  know  I  had 
come  back  ? "  and  he  held  her  hand  for  just  an  ap- 
preciable instant,  regarding  her  with  simple  delight. 
Her  tinge  of  embarrassment  became  her  sweetly,  and 
the  pleasure  in  his  eyes  made  her  almost  instantly 
aware  of  this. 

"I  didn't  know,"  she  said,  with  a  smile  that 
shared  his  feeling.     "  I  saw  the  windows  open,  and 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  235 

I  thought  the  woman  downstau's  might  be  messing 
about  here.  They  can  do  such  incalculable  damage 
when  they  really  set  their  minds  to  it,  these  concierge 
people.  So  I — I  came  up  to  interfere.  But  it  is 
you ! "  She  looked  at  him  with  wide,  happy  eyes 
which  sent  the  satisfaction  she  found  in  saying  that 
to  his  inmost  consciousness. 

"  That  was  extremely  good  of  you/^  he  said,  and 
in  spite  of  himself  a  certain  emphasis  crept  into 
the  commonplace.  "I  hardly  realize  myself  that 
I  am  here.  It  might  very  well  be  the  Skaagerak 
outside." 

"Does  the  sea  in  Norway  sound  like  that?'' 
Elfrida  asked,  as  the  roar  of  London  came  across 
muffled  from  Piccadilly.  She  made  a  little  theatri- 
cal movement  of  her  head  to  listen,  and  KendaPs 
appreciation  of  it  was  so  evident  that  she  failed  to 
notice  exactly  what  he  answered.  "  You  have  come 
back  sooner  than  you  intended  ? " 

"By  amonth.^' 

"  Why  ? "  she  asked.  Her  eyes  made  a  soft  bra- 
vado, but  that  was  lost.  He  did  not  guess  for  a 
moment  that  she  believed  she  knew  why  he  had 
come. 

"  It  was  necessary,"  he  answered,  with  remembered 
gravity,  "  in  connection  with  the  death  of —  of  a  rel- 
ative, a  granduncle  of  mine.     The  old  fellow  went 


236  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

off  suddenly  last  week,  and  they  telegraphed  for  me. 
I  believe  he  wanted  to  see  me,  poor  old  chap,  but  of 
course  it  was  too  late." 

"  Oh ! "  said  EKrida  gently,  "  that  is  very  sad. 
"Was  it  a  granduncle  you  were — fond  of  ?  '^ 

Kendal  could  not  restrain  a  smile  at  her  earnest- 
ness. 

"  I  was,  in  a  way.  He  was  a  good  old  fellow,  and 
he  lived  to  a  great  age — over  ninety.  He  has  left 
me  all  the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  his  estate," 
Kendal  went  on,  with  sudden  gloom.  "The  Lord 
only  knows  what  I'll  do  with  them." 

"  That  makes  it  sadder,"  said  the  girl. 

"  I  should  think  it  did,"  Kendal  replied  5  and  then 
their  eyes  met,  and  they  laughed  the  healthy  in- 
stinctive laugh  of  youth  when  it  is  asked  to  mourn 
fatuously,  which  is  always  a  httle  cruel. 

"  I  hope,"  said  Elfrida  quickly,  "  that  he  has  not 
saddled  you  with  a  title.  An  estate  is  bad  enough, 
but  with  a  title  added  it  would  ruin  you.  You 
would  never  do  any  more  good  work,  I  am  sure — 
sure.  People  would  get  at  you — you  would  take  to 
rearing  farm  creatures  from  a  sense  of  duty — you 
might  go  into  Parhament.  Tell  me  there  is  no 
title !  " 

"  How  do  you  know  all  that  ? "  Kendal  exclaimed, 
laughing.     "  But  there  is  no  title— never  has  been." 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  237 

Elfrida  di^ew  a  long  sigh  of  relief,  and  held  him 
with  her  eyes  as  if  he  had  just  been  snatched  away 
from  some  impending  danger.  "  So  now  you  are — 
what  do  you  say  in  this  country? — a  landed  pro- 
prietor. You  belong  to  the  country  gentry.  In 
America  I  used  to  read  about  the  country  gentry  in 
London  Society — all  the  contributors  and  all  the  sub- 
scribers to  London  Society  used  to  be  country  gentry, 
I  believe,  from  what  I  remember.  They  were  always 
riding  to  hounds,  and  having  big  Christmas  parties, 
and  telling  ghost  stories  about  the  family  diamonds." 

^' All  very  proper,"  Kendal  protested  against  the 
irony  of  her  tone. 

"  Oh,  if  one  would  be  quite  sure  that  it  will  not 
make  any  difference,"  Elfrida  went  on,  clasping  her 
knee  with  her  shapely  gloved  hands.  ^^  I  should  like 
— I  should  like  to  beg  you  to  make  me  a  promise 
that  you  will  never  give  up  your  work — your  splen- 
did work !  "  She  hesitated,  and  looked  at  him  almost 
with  supplication.  '^  But  then  why  should  you  make 
such  a  promise  to  me  !  " 

They  were  sitting  opposite  one  another  in  the 
dusty  confusion  of  the  room,  and  when  she  said  this 
Kendal  got  up  and  walked  over  to  her,  without 
knowing  exactly  why. 

^^If  I  made  such  a  promise,"  he    said,   looking 

down  at  her,  ^4t  would  be  more  binding  given  to 
16 


238  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

you  than  to  anybody  else — more  binding  and  more 
sacred." 

If  she  had  exacted  it  he  would  have  promised 
then  and  there,  and  he  had  some  vague  notion  of 
seahng  the  vow  with  his  lips  upon  her  hand,  and 
of  arranging — this  was  more  indefinite  still — that 
she  should  always  insist,  in  her  sweet  personal 
way,  upon  its  fulfilment.  But  Elfrida  felt  the 
intensity  in  his  voice  with  a  kind  of  fear,  not  of  the 
situation — she  had  a  nervous  delight  in  the  situation 
— ^but  of  herself.  She  had  a  sudden  terror  in  his 
coming  so  close  to  her,  in  his  changed  voice,  and  its 
sharpness  lay  in  her  recognition  of  it.  Why  should 
she  be  frightened  ?  She  jumped  up  gaily  with  the 
question  still  throbbing  in  her  throat. 

"  No,"  she  cried,  "  you  shall  not  promise  me.  Til 
form  a  solemn  committee  of  your  friends — your 
real  friends — and  we^ll  come  some  day  and  exact  an 
oath  from  you,  individually  and  collectively.  That 
will  be  miicJi  more  impressive.  I  must  go  now,"  she 
went  on  reproachfully,  "and  you  have  shown  me 
nothing  that  youVe  brought  back  with  you.  Is 
there  anything  here  ? "  In  her  anxiety  to  put  space 
between  them  she  had  walked  to  the  furthest  and 
untidiest  corner  of  the  room,  where  haK  a  dozen  can- 
vases leaned  with  their  faces  to  the  wall. 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  239 

Kendal  watched  her  tilt  them  forward  one  after 
another  with  a  kind  of  sick  impotence. 

"  Absolutely  nothing !  '^  he  cried. 

But  it  was  too  late — she  had  paused  in  her  run- 
ning commentary  on  the  pictures,  she  was  standing 
looking,  absolutely  silent,  at  the  last  but  one.  She 
had  come  upon  it — she  had  found  it — his  sketch  of 
the  scene  in  Lady  Halifax's  drawing-room. 

^'  Oh  yes,  there  is  something !  "she  said  at  last,  care- 
fully drawing  it  out  and  holding  it  at  arm's  length. 
"  Something  that  is  quite  new  to  me.  Do  you  mind 
if  I  put  it  in  a  better  light  ? "  Her  voice  had  won- 
derfully changed;  it  expressed  a  curious  interest 
and  self-control.  In  effect  that  was  all  she  felt  for 
the  moment;  she  had  a  dull  consciousness  of  a 
blow,  but  did  not  yet  quite  understand  being  struck. 
She  was  gathering  herself  together  as  she  looked, 
growing  conscious  of  her  hurt  and  of  her  resent- 
ment. Kendal  was  silent,  cursing  himself  inwardly 
for  not  having  destroyed  the  thing  the  day  after  he 
had  let  himself  do  it. 

^^Yes,"  she  said,  placing  it  on  an  easel  at  an 
oblique  angle  with  the  north  window  of  the  room, 
"  it  is  better  so." 

She  stepped  back  a  few  paces  to  look  at  it,  and 
stood  immovable,  searching  every  detail.     "  It  does 


240  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

you  credit,"  she  said  slowly ;  "  immense  credit.  Oh, 
it  is  very  clever !  " 

"  Forgive  me,'^  Kendal  said,  taking  a  step  toward 
her.  ^^  I  am  afraid  it  doesn^t.  But  I  never  intended 
you  to  see  it." 

"Is  it  an  order!"  she  asked  calmly.  ^'Ah,  but 
that  would  not  have  been  fair — not  to  show  it  to 
me  first ! " 

Kendal  crimsoned.  "I  beg,"  he  said  earnestly, 
"  that  you  will  not  think  such  a  thing  possible.  I 
intended  to  destroy  it — I  don't  know  why  I  have 
not  destroyed  it !  " 

"But  why?  It  is  so  good,  so  charming,  so — so 
true !  You  did  it  for  your  own  amusement,  then ! 
But  that  was  very  selfish." 

For  answer  Kendal  caught  up  a  tube  of  Indian 
red,  squeezed  it  on  the  crusted  palette,  loaded  a 
brush  with  it,  and  dashed  it  across  the  sketch.  It 
was  a  feeble  piece  of  bravado,  and  he  felt  it,  but  he 
must  convince  her  in  some  way  that  the  thing  was 
worthless  to  him. 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  "  that  is  a  pity !  "  and  she  walked 
to  the  door.  She  must  get  away,  quite  away,  and 
quickly,  to  realize  this  thing,  and  find  out  exactly 
what  it  meant  to  her.  And  yet,  three  steps  down 
the  stairs  she  turned  and  came  back  again.    John 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  241 

Kendal  stood  where  she  had  left  him,  staring  at  the 
sketch  on  the  easel. 

"I  have  come  back  to  thank  yon/'  Elfrida  said 
qnickly,  '^for  showing  me  what  a  fool  I  made  of 
myself,"  and  she  was  gone. 

An  hour  later  Kendal  had  not  ceased  to  belabor 
himself;  but  the  contemplation  of  the  sketch — 
he  had  not  looked  at  it  for  two  months — brought 
him  to  the  conclusion  that  perhaps,  after  all,  it 
might  have  some  salutary  effect.  He  found  himself 
so  curiously  sore  about  it  though,  so  thoroughly 
inclined  to  brand  himself  a  traitor  and  a  person 
without  obligation,  that  he  went  back  to  Norway 
the  following  week — a  course  which  left  a  number 
of  worthy  people  in  the  neighborhood  of  Bigton, 
Devonshire,  very  indignant  indeed. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"Daddy/'  Janet  said  to  her  father  a  few  days 
after  their  return  to  town,  "  I've  been  thinking  that 
we  might — that  you  might — ^be  of  use  in  helping 
Frida  to  place  something  somewhere  else  than  in 
that  eternal  picture  paper." 

"  For  instance  ? '' 

"  Oh,  in  Feterson^s,  or  the  London  Magazine,  or  Fie- 
cadilly.^^ 

It  was  in  the  library  after  dinner,  and  Lawrence 
Cardiff  was  smoking.  He  took  the  slender  stem  of 
his  pipe  from  his  lips  and  pressed  down  the  tobacco 
in  the  bowl  with  a  caressing  thumb,  looking  appre- 
ciatively, as  he  did  it,  at  the  mocking  buffoon's  face 
that  was  carved  on  it. 

"It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  the  influential 
person  in  those  quarters,"  he  said,  with  the  smile 
that  Janet  privately  thought  the  most  delightfully 
sympathetic  she  knew. 

"  Oh,  Fm  not  really !  "  the  girl  answered  quickly ; 
"and  besides — "  she  hesitated,  to  pick  words  that 
would  hurt  her  as  little  as  possible — "  besides,  Frida 
wouldn't  care  about  my  doing  it." 
242 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  243 

"  I  don^t  know  quite  why.  But  she  wouldn't — it's 
of  no  use.  I  don't  think  she  likes  having  things  done 
for  her  by  people  anything  like  her  own  age,  and 
— and  standing." 

Cardiff  smiled  inwardly  at  this  small  insincerity. 
Janet's  relation  with  Elf  rida  was  a  growing  pleasure 
to  him.  He  found  himself  doing  little  things  to  en- 
hance it,  and  fancying  himself  in  some  way  con- 
nected with  its  initiation, 

"  But  I'm  almost  certain  she  would  let  you  do  it," 
his  daughter  urged. 

"Jn  loco  parentis,^  Cardiff  smiled,  and  immediately 
found  that  the  words  left  an  unpleasant  taste  in  his 
mouth.  "  But  I'm  not  at  all  sure  that  she  could  do 
anything  they  would  take." 

"  My  dear  daddy !  "  cried  Janet  resentfully.  "  Wait 
till  she  tries !  You  said  yourself  that  some  of  those 
scraps  she  sent  us  in  Scotland  were  delicious." 

"  So  they  were.  She  has  a  curious,  prismatic  kind 
of  mind — " 

^' Soul,  daddy." 

"  Soul,  if  you  like.  It  reflects  quite  wonderfully, 
the  angles  at  which  it  finds  itself  with  the  world  are 
so  unusual.  But  I  doubt  her  power,  you  know,  of 
construction  or  cohesion,  or  anything  of  that  kind." 

"  I  don't,"  Janet  returned  confidently.     ^^  But  talk 


244  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

to  her  about  it,  daddy ;  get  her  to  show  you  what 
she's  done — I  never  see  a  line  till  it's  in  print. 
And — I  don't  know  anything  about  it,  you  know. 
Above  aU  things,  don't  let  her  guess  that  I  sug- 
gested it." 

"  I'll  see  what  can  be  done,"  Mr.  Cardiff  returned, 
"  though  I  profess  myself  faithless.  Elf rida  wasn't 
designed  to  please  the  public  of  the  magazines — in 
England." 

When  Janet  reflected  afterward  upon  what  had 
struck  her  as  being  odd  about  this  remark  of  her 
father's,  she  found  it  was  Elfrida's  name.  It  seemed 
to  have  escaped  him ;  he  had  never  referred  to  her 
in  that  way  before — which  was  a  wonder,  Janet 
assured  herself,  considering  how  constantly  he  heard 
it  from  her  lips. 

"How  does  the  novel  come  on?"  Mr.  Cardiff 
asked  before  she  went  to  bed  that  night.  "When 
am  I  to  be  allowed  to  see  the  proofs  ? " 

"I  finished  the  nineteenth  chapter  yesterday," 
Janet  answered,  flushing.  "It  will  only  i*un  to 
about  twenty-three.     It's  a  very  little  one,  daddy." 

"  Still  nobody  in  the  secret  but  Lash  and  Black  ? " 

"Not  a  soul.  I  hope  they're  the  right  people," 
Janet  said  anxiously.  "  I  haven't  even  told  Elf  rida," 
she  added.  "  I  want  to  surprise  her  with  an  early 
copy.  She'll  hke  it,  I  think.  I  like  it  pretty  weU 
myself.     It  has  an  effective  leading  idea." 


A  DAUGHTER   OF  TO-DAY.  245 

Her  father  laughed,  and  threw  her  a  line  of  Hor- 
ace which  she  did  not  understand.  '^  Don't  let  it 
take  too  much  time  from  your  other  work/^  he 
warned  her.  ^'  It's  sure,  you  know,  to  be  an  arrant 
imitation  of  somebody,  while  in  your  other  things 
you  have  never  been  anybody  but  yourself."  He 
looked  at  her  in  a  way  that  disarmed  his  words,  and 
went  back  to  his  Revue  Bleue. 

^^  Dear  old  thing !  You  want  to  prepare  me  for 
anything,  don't  you  ?  I  wonder  whom  I've  imitated ! 
Hardy,  I  think,  most  of  all — but  then  it's  such  a 
ludicrously  far-away  imitation !  If  there's  nothing 
in  the  thing  but  thatj  it  deserves  to  f  aU  as  flat  as  flat. 
But  there  is,  daddy !  " 

Cardiff  laid  down  his  journal  again  at  the  appeal- 
ing note. 

^'  No ! "  she  cried,  "  I  won't  bore  you  with 
it  now  J  wait  till  the  proofs  come.  Good-night ! '' 
She  kissed  him  lightly  on  the  cheek.  ^^  About 
EKrida,"  she  added,  still  bending  over  him.  "  You'll 
be  very  careful,  won't  you,  daddy  dear — not  to  hurt 
her  feelings  in  any  way,  I  mean  1  '^ 

After  she  had  gone,  Lawrence  Cardiff  laid  down 
the  Bevue  again  and  smoked  meditatively  for  half 
an  hour.  During  that  time  he  revolved  at  least  five 
subjects  which  he  thought  Elfrida,  with  proper 
supervision,  might  treat  effectively.  But  the  super- 
vision would  be  very  necessary. 


246  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

A  fortnight  later  Mr.  Cardiff  sat  in  the  same 
chair,  smoking  the  same  pipe,  and  alternately 
frowned  and  smiled  upon  the  result  of  that  even- 
ing's meditation.  It  had  reached  him  by  post  in 
the  afternoon  without  an  accompanying  word; 
the  exquisite  seK-conscious  manuscript  seemed  to 
breathe  a  subdued  defiance  at  him,  with  the  merest 
ghost  of  a  perfume  that  Cardiff  liked  better.  Once 
or  twice  he  held  the  pages  closer  to  his  face  to  catch 
it  more  perfectly. 

Janet  had  not  mentioned  the  matter  to  him 
again ;  indeed,  she  had  hardly  thought  of  it.  Her 
whole  nature  was  absorbed  in  her  fight  with  her- 
self, in  the  struggle  for  self-control,  which  had 
ceased  to  come  to  the  surface  of  her  life  at  in- 
tervals, and  had  now  become  constant  and  supreme 
with  her.  Kendal  had  made  it  harder  for  her  lately 
by  continually  talking  of  Elfrida.  He  brought  his 
interest  in  her  to  Janet  to  discuss  as  he  naturally 
brought  everything  that  touched  him  to  her,  and 
Janet,  believing  it  to  be  a  lover's  pleasure,  could  not 
forbid  him.  When  he  criticised  Elfrida,  Janet  fan- 
cied it  was  to  hear  her  warm  defence,  which  grew 
oddly  reckless  in  her  anxiety  to  hide  the  bitterness 
that  tinged  it. 

"  Otherwise,"  she  permitted  herself  to  reflect,  "  he 
is   curiously  just    in    his   analysis  of   her — for  a 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  247 

man/^  and  hated  the  thought  for  its  touch  of  dis- 
loyalty. 

Knowing  EKrida  as  she  thought  she  knew 
her,  KendaPs  talk  wounded  her  once  for  her- 
self and  twice  for  him.  He  was  going  on  blindly, 
confidently,  trusting,  Janet  thought  bitterly,  to  his 
own  sweetness  of  nature,  to  his  comeliness  and  the 
fineness  of  his  sympathies — who  had  ever  refused 
him  anything  yet!  And  only  to  his  hurt,  to  his 
repulse — ^from  the  point  of  view  of  sentiment,  to  his 
ruin.  For  it  did  not  seem  possible  to  Janet  that  a 
hopeless  passion  for  a  being  like  Elfrida  BeU  could 
result  in  anything  but  collapse.  Whenever  he  came 
to  Kensington  Square,  and  he  came  often,  she  went 
down  to  meet  him  vdth  a  quaking  heart,  and  sought 
his  face  nervously  for  the  haggard,  broken  look 
which  should  mean  that  he  had  asked  Elfrida  to 
marry  him  and  been  artistically  refused.  Always 
she  looked  in  vain ;  indeed,  Kendal's  spirits  were  so 
uniformly  like  a  schoolboy's  that  once  or  twice  she 
asked  herself,  with  sudden  terror,  whether  Elfrida 
had  deceived  her — whether  it  might  not  be  other- 
wise between  them,  recognizing  then,  with  infinite 
humiliation,  how  much  worse  that  would  be.  She 
took  to  working  extravagantly  hard,  and  Elfrida 
noticed  with  distinct  pleasure  how  much  warmer 
her  manner  had  grown,  and  in  how  many  pretty 


248  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

ways  she  showed  her  enthusiasm.  Janet  was  such 
a  conquest!  Once  when  Kendal  seemed  to  Janet 
on  the  point  of  asking  her  what  she  thought  of  his 
chances,  she  went  to  a  florist^s  in  the  High,  and  sent 
Elf rida  a  pot  of  snowy  chrysanthemums,  after  which 
she  allowed  herself  to  refrain  from  seeing  her  for 
a  week.  Her  talk  with  her  father  about  helping 
Elfrida  to  place  her  work  with  the  magazines  had 
been  one  of  the  constant  impulses  by  which  she 
tried  to  compensate  her  friend,  as  it  were,  for  the 
amount  of  suffering  that  young  woman  was  inflict- 
ing upon  her — she  would  have  found  a  difficulty  in 
explaining  it  more  intelligibly  than  that. 

As  he  settled  together  the  pages  of  Miss  BelPs 
article  on  "  The  Nemesis  of  Romanticism  "  and  laid 
them  on  the  table,  Lawrence  Cardiff  thought  of  it 
with  sincere  regret. 

"It  is  hopeless — ^hopeless,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"It  must  be  rewritten  from  end  to  end.  I  sup- 
pose she  must  do  it  herself,"  he  added,  with  a 
smile  that  he  drew  from  some  memory  of  her, 
and  he  pulled  writing  materials  toward  him  to 
tell  her  so.  Re-reading  his  brief  note,  he  frowned, 
hesitated,  and  tore  it  up.  The  next  followed  it  into 
the  waste-paper  basket.  The  third  gave  Elfrida 
gently  to  understand  that  in  Mr.  Cardiff's  opinion 
the  article  was  a  little  unbalanced — she  would  re- 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  249 

member  her  demand  that  he  should  be  absolutely 
frank.  She  had  made  some  delightful  points,  but 
there  was  a  lack  of  plan  and  symmetry.  If  she 
would  give  him  the  opportunity  he  would  be  very 
happy  to  go  over  it  with  her,  and  possibly  she  would 
make  a  few  changes.  More  than  this  Cardiff  could 
not  induce  himself  to  say.  And  he  would  await  her 
answer  before  sending  the  article  back  to  her. 

It  came  next  day,  and  in  response  to  it  Mr.  Car- 
diff found  himself  walking,  with  singular  lightness 
of  step,  toward  Fleet  Street  in  the  afternoon  with 
Elfrida's  manuscript  in  his  pocket.  Buddha  smiled 
more  inscrutably  than  ever  as  they  went  over  it 
together,  while  the  water  hissed  in  the  samovar  in 
the  corner,  and  little  blue  flames  chased  themselves 
in  and  out  of  the  anthracite  in  the  grate,  and  the 
queer  Orientalism  of  the  little  room  made  its  pic- 
turesque appeal  to  Cardiff's  senses.  He  had  never 
been  there  before. 

From  beginning  to  end  they  went  over  the  manu- 
script, he  criticising  and  suggesting,  she  gravely 
listening,  and  insatiately  spurring  him  on. 

"You  may  say  anything,"  she  declared.  "The 
sharper  it  is  the  better,  you  know,  for  me.  Please 
don't  be  polite — be  savage !  "  and  he  did  his  best 
to  comply. 

She  would  not  always  be  convinced  j  he  had  to 


250  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

leave  some  points  unvanqnished  5  but  in  the  main 
she  agreed  and  was  grateful.  She  would  remodel 
the  article,  she  told  him,  and  she  would  remember 
all  that  he  had  said.  Cardiff  found  her  recognition 
of  the  trouble  he  had  taken  delightful ;  it  was  noth- 
ing, he  declared;  he  hoped  very  particularly  that 
she  would  let  him  be  of  use,  if  possible,  often  again. 
He  felt  an  inexplicable  jar  when  she  suddenly  said, 
"Did  you  ever  do  anything — of  this  sort — for  Janet  ?" 
and  he  was  obliged  to  reply  that  he  never  did — her 
look  of  disappointment  was  so  keen.  "  She  thought," 
he  reflected,  "that  I  hoisted  Janet  into  literature, 
and  could  be  utilized  again  perhaps,"  in  which  he 
did  her  injustice.  But  he  lingered  over  his  tea,  and 
when  he  took  her  hand  to  bid  her  good-by  he  looked 
down  at  her  and  said,  "  Was  I  very  brutal  ? "  in  a  way 
which  amused  her  for  quite  half  an  hour  after  he  had 
gone.  * 

Cardiff  sent  the  amended  article  to  the  London 
Magazine  with  qualms.  It  was  so  unsuitable  even 
then,  that  he  hardly  expected  his  name  to  do  much 
for  it,  and  the  half-houi*  he  devoted  to  persuading 
his  literary  conscience  to  let  him  send  it  was  very 
uncomfortable  indeed.  Privately  he  thought  any 
journalist  would  be  rather  an  ass  to  print  it,  yet  he 
sincerely  hoped  the  editor  of  the  London  Magazine 
would  prove  himself  such  an  ass.    He  selected  the 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  251 

London  Magazine  because  it  seemed  to  him  that  the 
quality  of  its  matter  had  lately  been  slightly  deteri- 
orating. A  few  days  later,  when  he  dropped  in  at 
the  office,  impatient  at  the  delay,  to  ask  the  fate  of 
the  article,  he  was  distinctly  disappointed  to  find 
that  the  editor  had  failed  to  approach  it  in  the  char- 
acter he  had  mentally  assigned  to  him.  That  gen- 
tleman took  the  manuscript  out  of  the  left-hand 
drawer  of  his  writing-table,  and  fingered  the  pages 
over  with  a  kind  of  disparaging  consideration  before 
handing  it  back. 

^^  I'm  very  sorry,  Cardiff,  but  we  can't  do  any- 
thing with  this,  I'm  afraid.  We  have — we  have 
one  or  two  things  covering  the  same  ground  already 
in  hand." 

And  he  looked  at  his  ^dsitor  with  some  curiosity. 
It  was  a  queer  article  to  have  come  through 
Lawrence  Cardiff. 

Cardiff  resented  the  look  more  than  the  rejection. 
"It's  of  no  consequence,  thanks,"  he  said  drily. 
"  Very  good  of  you  to  look  at  it.  But  you  print  a 
great  deal  worse  stuff,  you  know." 

His  private  reflection  was  different,  however, 
and  led  him  to  devote  the  following  evening  to 
making  certain  additions  to  the  sense  and  altera- 
tions in  the  style  of  Elfrida's  views  on  "The 
Nemesis  of  Romanticism,"  which  enabled  him  to 


252  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

say^  at  about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  "  Enjin  ! 
It  is  passable !  '^  He  took  it  to  Elfrida  on  his  way 
from  his  lecture  next  day.  She  met  him  at  the  door 
of  her  attic  with  expectant  eyes ;  she  was  certain  of 
success. 

^^Have  they  taken  it?"  she  cried.  ^^Tell  me 
quick,  quick ! " 

When  he  said  no — the  editor  of  the  London 
Magazine  had  shown  himself  an  idiot — he  was  very 
sorry,  but  they  would  try  again,  he  thought  she 
was  going  to  cry.  But  her  face  changed  as  he  went 
on,  telling  her  frankly  what  he  thought,  and  show- 
ing her  what  he  had  done. 

"Pve  only  improved  it  for  the  benefit  of  the 
Philistines,"  he  said  apologetically.  "I  hope  you 
will  forgive  me." 

^' And  now,"  she  said  at  last,  with  a  little  hard  air, 
^^  what  do  you  propose  ?  " 

"  I  propose  that  if  you  approve  these  trifling  alter- 
ations, we  send  the  article  to  the  British  Review, 
And  they  are  certain  to  take  it." 

Elfrida  held  out  her  hand  for  the  manuscript, 
and  he  gave  it  to  her.  She  looked  at  every  page 
again.  It  was  at  least  half  re-written  in  Cardiff's 
small,  cramped  hand. 

^^  Thank-you,"  she  said  slowly.  "  Thank-you  very 
much.     I  have  learned  a  great  deal,  I  think,  from 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  253 

what  you  have  been  kind  enough  to  tell  me,  and 
to  write  here.  But  this,  of  course,  so  far  as  I  am 
concerned  in  it,  is  a  failure." 

"  Oh  no  !  "  he  protested. 

"An  utter  failure,"  she  went  on  unnoticingly, 
"  and  it  has  served  its  purpose.  There !  "  she  cried 
with  sudden  passion,  and  in  an  instant  the  manu- 
script was  flaming  in  the  grate. 

"Please — please  go  away,"  she  sobbed,  leaning 
against  the  mantel  in  a  sudden  betrayal  of  tears ; 
and  Cardiff,  resisting  the  temptation  to  take  her  in 
his  arms  and  bid  her  be  comforted,  went. 


ir 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Mr.  Rattray^s  proposal  occurred  as  soon  after 
the  close  of  the  season  as  he  was  able  to  find  time 
to  devote  the  amount  of  attention  to  it  which  he 
felt  it  required.  He  put  it  off  deliberately  till  then, 
fearing  that  it  might  entail  a  degree  of  mental 
agitation  on  his  part  that  would  have  an  undesira- 
ble reflex  action  upon  the  paper.  Mr.  Rattray  had 
never  been  really  attracted  toward  matrimony  be- 
fore, although  he  had  taken,  in  a  discussion  in  the 
columns  of  the  Age  upon  the  careworn  query,  ^'Is 
Marriage  a  Failure  ? "  a  vigorous  negative  side  under 
various  pen-names  which  argued  not  only  inclina- 
tion, but  experience.  He  felt,  therefore,  that  he 
could  not  possibly  predicate  anything  of  himself 
under  the  circumstances,  and  that  it  would  be  dis- 
tinctly the  part  of  wisdom  to  wait  until  there  was 
less  going  on.  Mr.  Rattray  had  an  indefinite  idea 
that  in  case  of  a  rejection  he  might  find  it  necessary 
to  go  out  of  town  for  some  weeks  to  pull  himself 
together  again — it  was  the  traditional  course — and 
if  such  an  exigency  occurred  before  July  the  office 
254 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  255 

would  go  to  pieces  under  the  pressure  of  events.  So 
he  waited,  becoming  every  day  more  enthusiastically 
aware  of  the  great  advantage  of  having  Miss  BeU 
permanently  connected  with  the  paper  under  super- 
vision which  would  be  even  more  highly  authorized 
than  an  editor's,  and  growing  at  the  same  time  more 
thoroughly  impressed  with  the  unusual  character  of 
her  personal  charm.  Elfrida  was  a  ^^find"  to  Mr. 
Arthur  Rattray  from  a  newspaper  point  of  view — 
a  find  he  gave  himself  credit  for  sagaciously  recog- 
nizing, and  one  which  it  would  be  expedient  to 
obtain  complete  possession  of  before  its  market 
value  should  become  known.  And  it  was  hardly 
possible  for  Mr.  Rattray  to  divest  himself  of  the 
newspaper  point  of  view  in  the  consideration  of  any- 
thing which  concerned  him  personally.  It  struck 
him  as  uniquely  fortunate  that  his  own  advantage 
and  that  of  the  Age  should  tally,  as  it  undoubtedly 
might  in  this  instance  j  and  that,  for  Arthur  Rattray, 
was  putting  the  matter  in  a  rather  high,  almost 
disinterested  connection. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  to  this  day  Mr.  Rattray 
fully  understands  his  rejection,  it  was  done  so  deftly, 
so  frankly,  yet  with  such  a  delicate  consideration 
for  his  feelings.  He  took  it,  he  assured  himself 
afterward,  without  winking ;  but  it  is  unlikely  that 
he  felt  sufficiently  indebted  to  the  manner  of  its 


256  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY- 

administration,  in  congratulating  himself  upon  this 
point.  It  may  be,  too,  that  he  left  Miss  Bell  with 
the  impression  that  her  intention  never  to  marry 
was  not  an  immovable  one,  given  indefinite  time 
and  indefinite  abstention,  on  his  part,  from  alluding 
to  the  subject.  Certainly  he  found  himself  sur- 
prisingly little  cast  down  by  the  event,  and  more 
resolved  than  ever  to  make  the  editor-in-chief  admit 
that  Elfrida's  contributions  were  "the  brightest 
things  in  the  paper,"  and  act  accordingly.  He  real- 
ized, in  the  course  of  time,  that  he  had  never  been 
veiy  confident  of  any  other  answer ;  but  nothing  is 
more  certain  than  that  it  acted  as  a  curious  stimulus 
to  his  interest  in  Elfrida^s  work.  He  found  a  co- 
enthusiast  in  Golightly  Ticke,  and  on  more  than  one 
occasion  they  agreed  that  something  must  be  done 
to  bring  Miss  Bell  before  the  public,  to  put  within 
her  reach  the  opportunity  of  the  success  she  de- 
served, which  was  of  the  order  Mr.  Rattray  described 
as  "  screaming." 

"  So  far  as  the  booming  is  concerned,"  said  Mr. 
Rattray  to  Mr.  Ticke,  "  I  will  attend  to  that ;  but 
there  must  be  something  to  boom.  We  can^t  sound 
the  loud  tocsin  on  a  lot  of  our  own  paras.  She  must 
do  something  that  will  go  between  two  covers." 

The  men  were  talking  in  Golightly^s  room  over 
easeful  Sunday  afternoon  cigars  5   and  as  Rattray 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  257 

spoke  they  heard  a  light  step  mount  the  stairs. 
^^  There  she  is  now,"  replied  Ticke.  ^^  Suppose  we 
go  up  and  propose  it  to  her  V 

"I  wish  I  knew  what  to  suggest,"  Rattray  re- 
turned J  *^  but  we  might  talk  it  over  with  her — when 
she's  had  time  to  take  off  her  bonnet." 

Ten  minutes  later  Elfrida  was  laughing  at  their 
ambitions.  "  A  success  1 "  she  exclaimed.  "  Oh  yes ! 
I  mean  to  have  a  success — one  day !  But  not  yet — 
oh  no !  First  I  must  learn  to  write  a  line  decently, 
then  a  paragraph,  then  a  page.  I  must  wait,  oh,  a 
very  long  time — ten  years  perhaps.     Five,  anyway." 

^^  Oh,  if  you  do  that,"  protested  Golightly  Ticke, 
^^  it  will  be  like  decanted  champagne.  A  success  at 
nineteen — " 

"  Twenty-one,"  corrected  Elfrida. 

"  Twent3^-one  if  you  like — is  a  sparkling  success, 
A  success  at  thirty-one  is — well,  it  lacks  the  accom- 
paniments." 

^^You  are  a  great  deal  too  exacting.  Miss  Bell," 
Rattray  put  in;  "those  things  you  do  for  us  are 
charming,  you  know  they  are." 

"  You  are  very  good  to  say  so.  I'm  afraid  they're 
only  frivolous  scraps." 

"  My  opinion  is  this,"  Rattray  went  on  sturdily. 
"  You  only  want  material.  Nobody  can  make  bricks 
without  straw — to  sell — and  very  few  people  can 


258  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

evolve  books  out  of  the  air  that  any  publisher  will 
look  at  it.  You  get  material  for  your  scraps,  and 
you  treat  it  unconventionally,  so  the  scraps  supply 
a  demand.  It's  a  demand  that's  increasing  every 
day — for  fresh,  unconventional  matter.  Your  ability 
to  treat  the  scraps  proves  your  ability  to  do  more 
sustained  work  if  you  could  find  it.  Get  the  mate- 
rial for  a  book,  and  FU  guarantee  youll  do  it  well." 

Elfrida  looked  from  one  to  the  other  with  bright 
eyes.  "What  do  you  suggest?"  she  said,  with  a 
nervous  little  laugh.  She  had  forgotten  that  she 
meant  to  wait  ten  years. 

"That's  precisely  the  difficulty,"  said  Golightly, 
running  his  fingers  through  his  hair. 

"  We  must  get  hold  of  something,"  said  Eattray. 
"  YouVe  never  thought  of  doing  a  novel  1 " 

Elfrida  shook  her  head  decidedly.  "Not  now," 
she  said.  "  I  would  not  dare.  I  haven't  looked  at 
life  long  enough — I've  had  hardly  any  experience 
at  all.  I  couldn't  conceive  a  single  character  with 
any  force  or  completeness.  And  then  for  a  novel 
one  wants  a  leading  idea — the  plot,  of  course,  is  of 
no  particular  consequence.  Rather  I  should  say 
plots  have  merged  into  leading  ideas  j  and  I  have 
none." 

"  Oh,  distinctly !  "  observed  Mr.  Ticke  finely.     "  A 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  259 

plot  is  as  vulgar  at  this  end  of  the  century  as  a — as 
a  dress  improver,  to  take  a  feminine  simile." 

Rattray  looked  seriously  uncomprehending,  and 
slowly  scratched  the  back  of  his  hand.  "  Couldn^t 
you  find  a  leading  idea  in  some  of  the  modern 
movements,"  he  asked — "  in  the  higher  education  of 
women,  for  instance,  or  the  suffrage  agitation  ? " 

^^Or  University  Extension,  or  Bimetallism,  or 
Eight  Hours^  Labor,  or  Disestablishment !  "  Elf rida 
laughed.     "  No,  Mr.  Rattray,  I  don't  think  I  could. 

^^  I  might  do  some  essays,"  she  suggested. 

Rattray,  tilting  his  chair  back,  with  his  forefingers 
in  the  arm-holes  of  his  waistcoat,  pursed  his  lips. 
"  We  couldn't  get  them  read,"  he  said.  "  It  takes  a 
weU-established  reputation  to  carry  essays.  People 
will  stand  them  from  a  Lang  or  a  Stevenson  or  that 
^  Obiter  Dicta '  fellow — not  from  an  unknown  young 
lady." 

Elf  rida  bit  her  lip.  "  Of  course  I  am  not  any  of 
those." 

"Miss  Bell  has  done  some  idyllic  verse,"  volun- 
teered Golightly. 

The  girl  looked  at  him  with  serious  reprobation. 
"I  did  not  give  you  permission  to  say  that,"  she 
said  gravely.  • 

"  No — forgive  me ! — ^but  it's  true^  Rattray."    He 


260  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

searched  in  his  breast  pocket  and  brought  out  a 
diminutive  pocket-book.  "May  I  show  those  two 
little  things  I  copied  ? ''  he  begged,  selecting  a  folded 
sheet  of  letter-paper  from  its  contents.  "This  is 
serious,  you  know,  really.  We  must  go  into  aU  the 
chances.^' 

Elfrida  had  a  pang  of  physical  distress. 

"  Oh/'  she  said  hastily,  "  Mr.  Rattray  wiU  not  care 
to  see  those.  They  weren't  written  for  the  Age,  you 
know,''  she  added,  forcing  a  smile. 

But  Rattray  declared  that  he  should  Uke  it  above 
all  things,  and  looked  the  scraps  gloomily  over. 
One  Elfrida  had  caUed  "A  Street  Minstrel."  See- 
ing him  unresponsive,  Golightly  read  it  gracefully 
aloud. 

"  One  late  November  afternoon 
'    I  sudden  heard  a  gentle  rune. 

"  I  could  not  see  whence  came  the  song, 
But,  tranced,  stopped  and  listened  long ; 

"And  that  drear  month  gave  place  to  May, 
And  all  the  city  slipped  away. 

**The  coal-carts  ceased  their  din, — ^instead 
I  heard  a  bluebird  overhead ; 

"The  pavements,  black  with  dismal  rain, 
Grew  greenly  to  a  country  lane. 

"Plainly  as  I  see  you,  my  friend, 
I  saw  the  lilacs  sway  and  bend, 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  261 

'^A  blossoming  apple-orchard  where 
The  chimneys  fret  the  foggy  air, 

"  And  wide  mown  fields  of  tlover  sweet 
Sent  up  their  fragrance  at  my  feet, 

"And  once  again  dear  Phyllis  sat 
The  thorn  beneath,  and  trimmed  her  hat. 


'  Long  looked  I  for  my  wizard  bard — 
I  found  him  on  the  boulevard. 

'  And  now  my  urban  hearth  he  cheers, 
Singing  all  day  of  sylvan  years, 

*  Right  thankful  for  the  warmer  spot — 
A  cricket,  by  July  forgot ! " 


Ticke  looked  inquiringly  at  Rattray  when  he 
had  finished.  Elfrida  turned  away  her  head,  and 
tapped  the  floor  impatiently  with  her  foot. 

^'  Isn^t  that  dainty  ? "  demanded  Golightly. 

"  Dainty  enough/'  Rattray  responded,  with  a  bored 
air.  "  But  you  can't  read  it  to  the  public,  you  know. 
Poetry  is  out  of  the  question.    Poetry  takes  genius." 

Golightly  and  Elfrida  looked  at  each  other  sym- 
pathetically. Mr.  Tickets  eyes  said,  "  How  hideously 
we  are  making  you  suffer,"  and  Elfrida's  conveyed  a 
tacit  reproach. 

^^  Travels  would  do  better,"  Rattray  went  on. 
"  There's  no  end  of  a  market  for  anything  new  in 


262  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

travels.  Go  on  a  walking  tour  tlirough  Spain,  by 
yourself,  disguised  as  a  nun  or  something,  and  write 
about  what  you  see." 

Elfrida  flushed  with  pleasure  at  the  reckless  idea. 
A  score  of  situations  rose  before  her  thrilling,  dan- 
gerous, picturesque,  with  a  beautiful  nun  in  the  fore- 
ground. "I  should  like  it  above  all  things,"  she 
said,  "  but  I  have  no  money." 

"  Tm  afraid  it  would  take  a  good  deal,"  Rattray 
returned. 

"That's  a  pity." 

"  It  disposes  of  the  question  of  travelling,  though, 
for  the  present,"  and  Elfrida  sighed  with  real  regret. 

"  It's  your  turn,  Ticke.  Suggest  something,"  Rat- 
tray went  on.  "  It  must  be  unusual  and  it  must  be 
interesting.  Miss  Bell  must  do  something  that  no 
young  lady  has  done  before.  That  much  she  must 
concede  to  the  trade.  Granting  that,  the  more  artist- 
ically she  does  it  the  better." 

"  I  should  agree  to  that  compromise,"  said  Elfrida 
eagerly.     "  Anything  to  be  left  with  a  free  hand." 

"  The  book  should  be  copiously  illustrated,"  con- 
tinued Rattray,  "  and  the  illustrations  should  draw 
their  interest  from  j^ou  personally." 

"I  don't  think  I  should  mind  that." 

Her  imagination  was  busy  at  a  bound  with  press 
criticisms,   pirated   American   editions,   newspaper 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  263 

paragraphs  describing  the  color  of  her  hair,  letters 
from  great  magazines  asking  for  contributions.  It 
leaped  with  a  fierce  joy  at  the  picture  of  Janet  read- 
ing these  paragraphs,  and  knowing,  whether  she 
gave  or  withheld  her  own  approval,  that  the  world 
had  pronounced  in  favor  of  Elfrida  Bell.  She  wrote 
the  simple  note  with  which  she  would  send  a  copy 
to  Kendal,  and  somewhere  in  the  book  there  would 
be  things  which  he  would  feel  so  exquisitely  that — 
The  cover  should  have  a  French  design  and  be  the 
palest  yellow.  There  was  a  moment^s  silence  while 
she  thought  of  these  things,  her  knee  clasped  in  her 
hands,  her  eyes  blindly  searching  the  dull  red  squares 
of  the  Llassa  prayer-carpet. 

^^  Rattray,^^  said  Golightly,  with  a  suddenness  that 
made  both  the  others  look  up  expectantly,  "  could 
Miss  Bell  do  her  present  work,  for  the  Age  any- 
where ?  ^^ 

^^  Just  now  I  think  it^s  mostly  book  reviews — isn't 
it  ? — eind  comments  on  odds  and  ends  in  the  papers 
of  interest  to  ladies.  Yes — not  quite  so  well  out  of 
London ;  but  T  dare  say  it  could  be  done  pretty  much 
anywhere,  reasonably  near." 

^'  Then,''  replied  Golightly  Ticke,  with  a  repressed 
and  guarded  air,  ^^  I  think  I've  got  it." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Three  days  later  a  note  from  Miss  Cardiff  in 
Kensington  Square  to  Miss  Bell  in  Essex  Conrt, 
Fleet  Street,  came  back  unopened.  A  slanting  line 
in  very  violet  ink  along  the  top  read  '^  Out  of  toimi 
for  the  pressent  M.  Jordan"  Janet  examined  the 
line  carefully,  but  could  extract  nothing  further 
from  it  except  that  it  had  been  written  with  extreme 
care,  by  a  person  of  limited  education  and  a  taste 
for  color.  It  occurred  to  lier,  in  addition,  that  the 
person^s  name  was  probably  Mary. 

EKrida's  actions  had  come  to  have  a  curious  im- 
portance to  Janet ;  she  realized  how  great  an  impor- 
tance with  the  access  of  irritated  surprise  which 
came  to  her  with  this  unopened  note.  In  the  begin- 
ning she  had  found  Elfrida's  passionate  admira- 
tion so  novel  and  so  sweet  that  her  heart  was  half 
won  before  they  came  together  in  completer  inti- 
macy, and  she  gave  her  new  original  friend  a  meed 
of  affection  which  seemed  to  strengthen  as  it  in- 
stinctivety  felt  itself  unreturned — at  least  in  kind. 
Elfrida  retracted  none  of  her  admiration,  and  she 
264 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  265 

added  to  it,  when  she  ceded  her  sympathy,  the  free- 
dom of  a  fortified  city;  but  Janet  hungered  for 
more.  Inwardly  she  cried  out  for  the  something 
warm  and  human  that  was  lacking  to  Elfrida's  feel- 
ing for  her,  and  sometimes  she  asked  herself  with 
grieved  cynicism  how  her  friend  found  it  worth 
while  to  pretend  to  care  so  cleverly.  More  than 
once  she  had  written  to  Elfrida  with  the  deliber- 
ate purpose  of  soothing  herself  by  provoking  some 
tenderness  in  reply,  and  invariably  the  key  she  had 
struck  had  been  that  of  homage,  more  or  less  whim- 
sically unwilling.  "  DonH  write  such  delicious  things 
to  me,  ma  fmCy^  would  come  the  answer.  ^'You 
make  me  curl  up  with  envy.  What  shall  I  do  if 
malice  and  all  uncharitableness  follow?  I  admire 
you  so  horribly — there  !  '^  Janet  told  herself  sorely 
that  she  was  sick  of  Elfrida's  admiration — it  was 
not  the  stuff  friendships  were  made  of.  And  a 
keener  pang  supervened  when  she  noticed  that 
whatever  savored  most  of  an  admiration  on  her 
own  part  had  obviously  the  highest  value  for  her 
friend.  The  thought  of  Kendal  only  heightened 
her  feeling  about  Elfrida.  She  would  be  so  much 
the  stronger,  she  thought,  to  resist  any — any  strain 
— if  she  could  be  quite  certain  how  much  Elfrida 
cared — cared  about  her  personally.  Besides,  the 
indictment  that  she,  Janet,  had  against  her  seemed 


266  A   DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

to  make  the  girl's  affection  absolutely  indispensa- 
ble. And  now  Elfrida  had  apparently  left  London 
without  a  word.  She  had  dined  in  Kensington 
Square  the  night  before,  and  this  was  eleven  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  It  looked  very  much  as  if  she  had 
deliberately  intended  to  leave  them  in  the  dark  as 
to  her  movements.  People  didn't  go  out  of  town 
indefinitely  "for  the  present/'  on  an  hour's  notice. 
The  thought  brought  sudden  tears  to  Janet's  eyes, 
which  she  winked  back  angrily.  "I  am  getting 
to  be  a  perfect  old  maid  !  "  she  reflected.  "  Why 
shouldn't  Frida  go  to  Kamschatka,  if  she  wants  to, 
without  giving  us  notice?  It's  only  her  eccentric 
way  of  doing  things."  And  she  frowned  upon  her 
sudden  resolution  to  rush  off  to  Fleet  Street  in  a  cab 
and  inquire  of  Mrs.  Jordan.  It  would  be  espion- 
age. She  would  wait,  quite  calmly  and  indefinitely, 
till  Frida  chose  to  write,  and  then  she  would  treat 
the  escapade,  whatever  it  was,  with  the  perfect  un- 
derstanding of  good-fellowship.  Or  perhaps  not  in- 
definitely— for  two  or  three  days — it  was  just  possi- 
ble that  Frida  might  have  had  bad  news  and  staiied 
suddenly  for  America  by  the  early  train  to  Liver- 
pool, in  which  case  she  might  easily  not  have  had 
time  to  write.  But  in  that  case  would  not  Mrs. 
Jordan  have  written  "  Gone  to  America "  ?  Her 
heart  stood  stiU  with  another  thought — could  she 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  267 

have  gone  with  Kendal?  Granting  that  she  had 
made  up  her  mind  to  marry  him,  it  would  be  just 
Elfrida's  strange,  sensational  way.  Janet  walked 
the  floor  in  a  restless  agony,  mechanically  tearing 
the  note  into  little  strips.  She  must  know — she 
must  find  out.  She  would  write  and  ask  him  for 
something — for  what  ?  A  book,  a  paper — the  New 
Monthly  J  and  she  must  have  some  particidar  reason. 
She  sat  down  to  write,  and  pressed  her  fingers  upon 
her  throbbing  eyes  in  the  effort  to  summon  a  partic- 
ular reason.  It  was  as  far  from  her  as  ever  when  the 
maid  knocked  and  came  in  with  a  note  from  Kendal 
asking  them  to  go  to  see  Miss  Rehan  in  "  As  You 
Like  It "  that  evening — a  note  fragrant  of  tobacco, 
not  an  hour  old. 

^^You  needn't  wait,  Jessie,^'  she  said.  'Til  send 
an  answer  later  j  "  and  the  maid  had  hardly  left 
the  room  before  Janet  was  sobbing  silently  and 
helplessly  with  her  head  on  the  table.  As  the  day 
passed  however,  EKrida's  conduct  seemed  less  unfor- 
givable, and  by  dinner-time  she  was  able  to  talk  of 
it  with  simple  wonder,  which  became  more  tolerant 
still  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  when  she  dis- 
covered that  Kendal  was  as  ignorant  and  as  aston- 
ished as  they  themselves. 

"  She  will  write,"  Janet  said  hopefully ;  but  a  week 
passed  and  Elfrida  did  not  write.    A  settled  disquie- 


268  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

tude  began  to  make  itself  felt  between  the  Cardiffs. 
Accepting  each  other's  silence  for  the  statement  that 
Elfrida  had  sent  no  word,  they  ceased  to  talk  of  her 
— as  a  topic  her  departure  had  become  painful  to 
both  of  them.  Janet's  anxiety  finally  conquered  her 
sciniples,  and  she  betook  herself  to  Essex  Court  to 
inquire  of  Mrs.  Jordan.  That  lady  was  provokingly 
mysterious,  and  made  the  difficulty  of  ascertaining 
that  she  knew  nothing  whatever  about  Miss  Bell's 
movements  as  great  as  possible.  Janet  saw  an  ac- 
quaintance with  some  collateral  circumstance  in  her 
eyes,  however,  and  was  just  turning  away  irritated 
by  her  vain  attempts  to  obtain  it,  when  Mrs.  Jordan 
decided  that  the  pleasure  of  the  revelation  would  be, 
after  all,  greater  than  the  pleasure  of  shielding  the 
facts. 

"Wether  it  'as  anything  to  do  with  Miss  Bell 
or  not,  of  course  I  can't  say,"  Mrs.  Jordan  remarked, 
with  conscientious  hypociisy,  "  but  Mr.  Ticke,  he  left 
town  that  same  mornin'."  She  looked  disappointed 
when  Miss  Cardiff  received  this  important  detail 
indifferently. 

"  Oh,  nothing  whatever,"  Janet  replied,  with  ad- 
ditional annoyance  that  Elfrida  should  have  sub- 
jected herself  to  such  an  insinuation.  Janet  had  a 
thoroughgoing  dislike  to  Golightly  Ticke.  On  her 
way  back  in  the  omnibus  she  reflected  on  the  coinci- 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  269 

dence,  however,  and  in  the  end  she  did  not  mention 
it  to  her  father. 

The  next  day  Lawrence  Cardiff  went  to  the  Age 
office  and  had  the  good  fortune  to  see  Mr.  Rattray, 
who  was  flattered  to  answer  questions  regarding 
Miss  Bell's  whereabouts,  put  by  any  one  he  knew  to 
be  a  friend.  Mr.  Rattray  undertook  to  apologize 
for  their  not  hearing  of  the  scheme,  it  had  ma- 
tured so  suddenly.  Miss  Bell  couldn't  really  have 
had  time  to  do  more  than  pack  and  start;  in 
fact,  there  had  been  only  three  days  in  which  to 
make  all  the  arrangements.  And  of  course  the  facts 
were  confidential,  but  there  was  no  reason  why  Miss 
Bell's  friends  should  not  be  in  the  secret.  Then  Mr. 
Rattray  imparted  the  facts,  with  a  certain  conscious 
gratification.  There  had  been  difficulties,  but  the 
difficulties  had  been  surmounted,  and  he  had  heard 
from  Miss  Bell  that  morning  that  everything  was 
going  perfectly,  and  she  was  getting  hold  of  magnif- 
icent copy.  He  was  only  sorry  it  wouldn't  be  quite 
suitable  for  serial  publication  in  the  Age;  but,  as 
Professor  Cardiff  was  doubtless  aware,  the  British 
public  were  kittle  cattle  to  shoe  behind,  and  he 
hardly  thought  the  Age  could  handle  it. 

"  Oh  yes,''  Mr.  Cardiff  replied  absently.    ^'  Cheyne- 

mouth,  I  think  you  said — for  the  next  five  days. 

Thanks.    Successful  ?    I  dare  say.    The  idea  is  cer- 
18 


270  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

tainly  a  novel  one.  Good-morning !  "  and  he  left  the 
sub-editor  of  the  Illustrated  Age  in  a  state  of  some 
uncertainty  as  to  the  wisdom  of  having  disclosed  so 
nmch.  Half  an  hour  later,  when  Kendal,  who  knew 
Rattray  fairly  well,  called  and  asked  him  for  Miss 
Bell's  present  address,  he  got  it  with  some  reluctance 
and  fewer  details. 

Cardiff  drove  to  his  club,  and  wrote  a  note  to 
Janet,  asking  her  to  send  his  portmanteau  to  the 
3.45  train  at  Euston,  as  he  intended  to  run  down  to 
Cheynemouth  and  might  stay  over  night.  He  fast- 
ened up  the  envelope,  then  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion tore  it  open  and  added,  ^^  Miss  Bell  is  attempt- 
ing a  preposterous  thing.  I  am  going  to  see  if  it 
cannot  be  prevented."  He  fancied  Janet  would  un- 
derstand his  not  caring  to  go  into  particulars  in  the 
meantime.  It  was  because  of  his  aversion  to  going 
into  particulars  that  he  sent  the  note  and  lunched  at 
the  club,  instead  of  driving  home  as  he  had  abun- 
dance of  time  to  do.  Janet  would  have  to  be  content 
with  that ;  it  would  be  bad  enough  to  have  to  ex- 
plain Rattray's  intolerable  ^^  scheme  "  to  her  when  it 
had  been  frustrated.  After  luncheon  he  went  into 
the  smoking-room  and  read  through  three  leading 
articles  with  an  occasional  inkling  of  their  meaning. 
At  the  end  of  the  third  he  became  convinced  of  the 
absurdity  of  trpng  to  fix  his  attention  upon  any- 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  271 

thing,  and  smoked  his  next  Havana  with  his  eyes 
upon  the  toe  of  his  boot,  in  profound  meditation. 
An  observant  person  might  have  noticed  that  he 
passed  his  hand  once  or  twice  lightly,  mechanically, 
over  the  top  of  his  head ;  but  even  an  observant  per- 
son would  hardly  have  connected  the  action  with 
Mr,  Cardiff^s  latent  idea  that  although  his  hair 
might  be  tinged  in  a  damaging  way  there  was  still 
a  good  deal  of  it.  Three  o'clock  found  him  standing 
at  the  club  window  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
and  the  firm-set  lips  of  a  man  who  has  made  up 
his  mind,  looking  unseeingly  into  the  street.  At 
a  quarter  past  he  was  driving  to  the  station  in  a 
hansom,  smiling  at  the  rosette  on  the  horse's  head, 
which  happened  to  be  a  white  one. 

^^  There's  Cardiff,"  said  a  man  who  saw  him  taking 
his  ticket.     ^'  More  than  ever  the  joli  gargon  !  " 

An  hour  and  a  half  later  one  of  the  somewhat 
unprepossessing  set  of  domestics  attached  to  the 
Mansion  Hotel,  Cheynemouth,  undertook  to  deliver 
Mr.  Lawrence  Cardiff's  card  to  Miss  Bell.  She 
didn't  remember  no  such  name  among  the  young 
ladies  of  the  Peach  Blossom  Company,  but  she  would 
h'inquire.  They  was  a  ladies'  drawin'-room  up- 
stairs, if  he  would  like  to  sit  down.  She  conducted 
him  to  the  ladies'  drawing-room,  which  boasted  two 
pairs  of  torn  lace  curtains,  a  set  of  dirty  furniture 


272  '       A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

with  plnsh  trimmings,  several  lithographs  of  mellow 
Oriental  scenes  somewhat  undecidedly  poised  upon 
the  wall,  and  a  marble-topped  centre-table  around 
which  were  disposed  at  careful  intervals  three  or 
f oui'  copies  of  last  yearns  illustrated  papers.  "  You 
can  w'y t  ^ere,  sir,"  she  said,  installing  him  as  it  were. 
^'  m  let  you  know  direckly.'^ 

At  the  end  of  the  corridor  the  girl  met  Elfrida 
herself,  who  took  the  card  with  that  quickening  of 
her  pulse,  that  sudden  commotion  which  had  come 
to  represent  to  her,  in  connection  with  any  critical 
personal  situation,  one  of  the  keenest  possible  sen- 
sations of  pleasure.  ^^  You  may  tell  the  gentleman," 
she  said  quietly,  "that  I  will  come  in  a  moment." 
Then  she  went  back  into  her  own  room,  closed  the 
door,  and  sat  down  on  the  side  of  the  bed  with  a  pale 
face  and  eyes^  that  comprehended,  laughed,  and  were 
withal  a  little  frightened.  That  was  what  she  must 
get  rid  of,  that  f eeHng^  of  fear,  that  scent  of  adverse 
criticism.  She  would  sit  still  till  she  was  perfectly 
calm,  perfectly  accustomed  to  the  idea  that  Law- 
rence Cardiff  had  come  to  remonstrate  with  her, 
and  had  come  because — because  what  she  had  been 
gradually  becoming  convinced  of  all  these  months 
was  true.  He  was  so  clever,  so  distinguished,  he 
had  his  eyes  and  his  voice  and  his  whole  self  so  per- 
fectly under  control,,  that  she  never  could  be  quite, 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  273 

quite  sure — ^but  now !  And  in  spite  of  herself  her 
heart  beat  faster  at  the  anticipation  of  what  he 
might  be  waiting  to  say  to  her  not  twenty  steps 
away.  She  hid  her  face  in  the  pillow  to  laugh  at 
the  thought  of  how  deUciously  the  interference  of 
an  elderly  lover  would  lend  itself  to  the  piece  of 
work  which  she  saw  in  fascinating  development 
under  her  hand,  and  she  had  an  instantaneous  flash 
of  regret  that  she  couldn't  use  it — no,  she  couldn't 
possibly.  With  fingers  that  trembled  a  little  she 
twisted  her  hair  into  a  knot  that  became  her  better, 
and  gave  an  adjusting  pat  to  the  fL\x&.j  ends  around 
her  forehead.  ^^Nous  en  ferons  une  comedie  ador- 
able ! ''  she  nodded  at  the  girl  in  the  glass  j  and 
then,  with  the  face  and  manner  of  a  child  detected 
in  some  mischief  who  yet  expects  to  be  forgiven, 
she  went  into  the  drawing-room. 

At  the  sight  of  her  all  that  Cardiff  was  ready  to 
say  vanished  from  the  surface  of  his  mind.  The 
room  was  already  gray  in  the  twilight.  He  drew 
her  by  both  hands  to  the  nearest  window,  and 
looked  at  her  mutely,  searchingly.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  she,  who  was  so  quick  of  apprehension, 
ought  to  know  why  he  had  come  without  words,  and 
her  submission  deepened  his  feeling  of  a  complete 
understanding  between  them. 

^^Pve  washed  it  all  off !  "  said  she  naively,  lifting 


274  A  DAUGHTER   OF  TO-DAY. 

her  face  to  Ms  scrutiny.  "  If s  not  an  improvement 
by  daylight,  you  know.'' 

He  smiled  a  little,  but  he  did  not  release  her 
hands.     "  Elfrida,  you  must  come  home." 

^'  Let  us  sit  down,"  she  said,  drawing  them  away. 
He  had  a  trifle  too  much  advantage,  standing  so 
close  to  her,  tall  and  firm  in  the  dusk,  knowing  what 
he  wanted,  and  with  that  tenderness  in  his  voice. 
Not  that  she  had  the  most  far-away  intention  of 
yielding,  but  she  did  not  want  their  little  farce  to 
be  spoiled  by  any  complications  that  might  mar  her 
pleasure  in  looking  back  upon  it.  "I  think,"  said 
she,  "you  will  find  that  a  comfortable  chair,"  and 
she  showed  him  one  which  stood  where  all  the  day- 
light that  came  through  the  torn  curtains  concen- 
trated itself.  From  her  own  seat  she  could  draw 
her  face  into  the  deepest  shadow  in  the  room.  She 
made  the  arrangement  almost  instinctively,  and  the 
lines  of  intensity  the  last  week  had  drawn  upon 
Cardiff's  face  were  her  first  reward. 

"  I  have  come  to  ask  you  to  give  up  this  thing," 
he  said. 

Elfrida  leaned  forward  a  little  in  her  favorite 
attitude,  clasping  her  knee.  Her  eyes  were  widely 
serious.  "  You  ask  me  to  give  it  up  ? "  she  repeated 
slowly.     "  But  why  do  you  ask  me  ? " 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  275 

"  Because  I  cannot  associate  it  with  you — to  me  it 
is  impossible  that  you  should  do  it." 

Elfrida  lifted  her  eyebrows  a  little.  "Do  you 
know  why  I  am  doing  it  ? "  she  asked. 

"  I  think  so." 

"  It  is  not  a  mere  escapade,  you  understand.  And 
these  people  do  not  pay  me  anything.  That  is  quite 
just,  because  I  have  never  learned  to  act  and  I 
haven't  much  voice.  I  can  take  no  part,  only  just — 
appear." 

^^ Appear!"  Cardiff  exclaimed.  "Have  you  ap- 
peared ? " 

"  Seven  times,"  Elfrida  said  simply,  but  she  felt 
that  she  was  blushing. 

Cardiff^s  anger  rose  up  hotly  within  him,  and 
strove  with  his  love,  and  out  of  it  there  came  a  sick- 
ening sense  of  impotency  which  assailed  his  very 
soul.  All  his  life  he  had  had  tangibilities  to  deal 
with.  Tliis  was  something  in  the  air,  and  already 
he  felt  the  apprehension  of  being  baffled  here,  where 
he  wrought  for  his  heart  and  his  future. 

"  So  that  is  a  part  of  it,"  he  said,  with  tightened 
lips.     "  I  did  not  know." 

"  Oh,  I  insisted  upon  that,"  Elfrida  replied  softly. 
"  I  am  quite  one  of  them — one  of  the  young  ladies 
of  the  Peach  Blossom  Company.     I  am  learning  all 


276  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

their  sensations,  their  little  frailties,  their  vocabu- 
lary, their  ways  of  looking  at  things.  I  know  how 
the  novice  feels  when  she  makes  her  first  appear- 
ance in  the  chorus  of  a  spectacle — Pve  noted  every 
vibration  of  her  nerves.  I^m  learning  aU  the  little 
jealousies  and  intrigues  among  them,  and  all  their 
histories  and  their  ambitions.  They  are  more  moral 
than  you  may  think,  but  it  is  not  the  moral  one 
who  is  the  most  interesting.  Her  virtue  is  gen- 
erally a  very  threadbare,  common  sort  of  thing. 
The — others — ^have  more  color  in  the  fabric  of  their 
lives,  and  you  can't  think  how  picturesque  their 
passions  are.  One  of  the  chorus  gii'ls  has  two  chil- 
dren. I  feel  a  brute  sometimes  at  the  way  she — " 
Elfrida  broke  off,  and  looked  out  of  the  window  for 
an  instant.  ^^  She  brings  their  little  clothes  into  my 
bedroom  to  make — though  there  is  no  need,  they  are 
in  an  asylum.  She  is  divorced  from  their  father,^' 
she  went  on  coolly,  "  and  he  is  married  to  the  lead- 
ing lady.  Candidly,"  she  added,  looking  at  him  with 
a  courageous  smile,  "  prejudice  apart,  is  it  not  mag- 
nificent material  f " 

A  storm  of  words  trembled  upon  the  verge  of  his 
lips,  but  his  diplomacy  instinctively  sealed  them  up. 
"  You  can  never  use  it,"  he  said  instead. 

^'  Perfectly !  I  am  not  quite  sure  about  the  form 
— whether  I  shall  write  as  one  of  them,  or  as  myself. 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  277 

telling  tlie  story  of  my  experience.  But  I  never 
dreamed  of  ha^dng  such  an  opportunity.  If  I  didn't 
mean  to  write  a  word  I  should  be  glad  of  it — a  look 
into  another  world,  with  its  own  customs  and  lan- 
guage and  ethics  and  pleasures  and  pains.  Quelle 
chance  ! 

^' And  then,"  she  went  on,  as  if  to  herself,  "to  be 
of  the  hf  e,  the  strange,  unreal,  painted,  lime-lighted 
life  that  goes  on  behind  the  curtain !  That  is  some- 
thing— to  act  one's  part  in  it,  to  know  that  one's 
own  secret  role  is  a  thousand  times  more  difficult 
than  any  in  the  repertoire.  Can't  you  understand  ? " 
she  appealed.  "  You  are  horribly  unresponsive.  We 
won't  talk  of  it  any  longer,"  she  added,  with  a  little 
offended  air.     "  How  is  Janet  ? " 

"  We  must  talk  of  it,  Elfrida,"  Cardiff  answered. 
"Let  me  tell  you  one  thing,"  he  added  steadily. 
"Such  a  book  as  you  propose  writing  would 
be  classed  as  the  lowest  sensationalism.  People 
would  compare  it  with  the  literature  of  the  police 
court." 

Elfrida  sprang  to  her  feet,  with  her  head  thrown 
back  and  her  beautiful  eyes  ahght.  "  Totiche  / " 
Cardiff  thought  exultingly. 

"  You  may  go  too  far ! "  she  exclaimed  passion- 
ately. "There  are  some  things  that  may  not  be 
said ! " 


278  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

Cardiff  went  over  to  her  quickly  and  took  her 
hand.  "  Forgive  me/'  he  said.  '^  Forgive  me — I  am 
very  much  in  earnest." 

She  turned  away  from  him.  "  Yon  had  no  right 
to  say  it.  Yon  know  my  work,  and  you  know  that 
the  ideal  of  it  is  everything  in  the  world  to  me — 
my  religion.  How  dared  you  suggest  a  comparison 
between  it  and — cette  ordure  la ! " 

Her  voice  broke,  and  Cardiff  fancied  she  was  on 
the  brink  of  tears.  "  Elfrida,"  he  cried  miserabty, 
^4et  us  have  an  end  of  this!  I  have  no  right  to 
intnide  my  opinions — if  you  like,  my  prejudices — 
between  you  and  what  you  are  doing.  But  I  have 
come  to  beg  you  to  give  me  the  right."  He  came  a 
step  closer  and  laid  his  free  hand  lightly  on  her 
shoulder.  ^'EKrida,"  he  said  unhesitatingly,  ^^I 
want  you  to  be  my  wife." 

"  And  Janet's  stepmother ! "  thought  the  girl 
swiftly.  But  she  hoped  he  would  not  mention 
Janet ;  it  would  burlesque  the  situation. 

"  Your  going  away  made  me  quite  sure,"  he  added 
simply.  ^'I  can  never  do  without  you  altogether 
again.  Instead  I  want  to  possess  you  altogether." 
He  bent  his  fine  face  to  the  level  of  hers,  and  took 
both  her  hands  in  his.  Elf  rida  thought  that  by  that 
light  he  looked  strangely  young. 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  279 

She  slipped  her  hands  away,  but  did  not  move. 
He  was  still  very  close  to  her — she  could  feel  his 
breath  upon  her  hair. 

'^  Oh  no  !  "  she  said.  "  Marriage  is  so  absurd ! '' 
and  immediately  it  occurred  to  her  that  she  might 
have  put  this  more  effectively.  "  Cela  n^est  pas  bien 
dit !  "  she  thought. 

^^  Let  us  sit  down  together  and  talk  about  it/'  he 
answered  gently,  and  drew  her  toward  the  little  sofa 
in  the  corner. 

^'  But — I  am  afraid — there  is  nothing  more  to  say. 
And  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  must  go.'' 

Cardiff  smiled  masterfully.  ^^  I  could  marry  you, 
little  one,  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,''  he  said. 

But  at  the  end  of  that  time  Lawi'ence  Cardiff 
found  himself  very  far  indeed  from  the  altar,  and 
more  enlightened  perhaps  than  he  had  ever  been 
before  about  the  radicalism  of  certain  modern  senti- 
ments concerning  it.  She  would  change,  he  averred ; 
might  he  be  allowed  to  hope  that  she  would  change, 
and  to  wait — months,  years?  She  would  never 
change,  Elfrida  avowed,  it  was  useless — quite  use- 
less— to  think  of  that.  The  principle  had  too  deep  a 
root  in  her  being — to  tear  it  up  would  be  to  destroy 
her  whole  joy  in  life,  she  said,  leaving  Cardiff  to 
wonder  vaguely  what  she  meant. 


280  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

"  I  will  wait/'  he  said,  as  she  rose  to  go  j  "  but 
you  wiU  come  back  with  me  now,  and  we  will  write 
a  book — some  other  book — together." 

The  girl  laughed  gaily.  ^^  All  alone  by  myself  I 
must  do  it,"  she  answered.  ^'And  I  must  do  this 
book.  You  will  approve  it  when  it  is  done.  I  am 
not  afraid." 

He  had  her  hands  again.  "Elfrida,"  he  threat- 
ened, ^'if  you  go  on  the  stage  to-night  in  the  cos- 
tume I  see  so  graphically  advertised — an  Austrian 
hussar,  isn't  it  ? — I  will  attend.  I  will  take  a  box," 
he  added,  wondering  at  his  own  brutality.  But  by 
any  means  he  must  prevail. 

Elfrida  turned  a  shade  paler.  "  You  will  not  do 
that,"  she  said  gravely.  ^'Good-by.  Thank  you 
for  ha\ing  come  to  persuade  me  to  give  this  up. 
And  I  wish  I  could  do  what  you  would  hke.  But  it 
is  quite,  quite  impossible."  She  bent  over  him  and 
touched  his  forehead  lightly  with  her  hps.  ^'  Good- 
by,"  she  said  again,  and  was  gone. 

An  hour  later  he  was  on  his  way  back  to  town. 
As  the  mail  train  whizzed  by  another,  side-tracked 
to  await  its  passing,  Mr.  Cardiff  might  have  seen 
Kendal,  if  there  had  been  time  to  look,  puf&ng  lux- 
uriously in  a  smoking  compartment,  and  unfolding 
a  copy  of  the  Illustrated  Age, 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Before  he  had  been  back  in  Norway  a  week 
Kendal  felt  his  perturbation  with  regard  to  Elfrida 
remarkably  quieted  and  soothed.  It  seemed  to  him. 
in  the  long  hours  while  he  fished  and  painted, 
that  in  the  progress  of  the  little  drama,  from  its 
opening  act  at  Lady  Halifax's  to  its  final  scene  at 
the  studio,  he  had  arrived  at  something  sohd  and 
tangible  as  the  basis  of  his  relation  toward  the  girl. 
It  had  precipitated  in  him  a  power  of  comprehend- 
ing her  and  of  criticising  her  which  he  had  possessed 
before  only,  as  it  were,  in  solution.  Whatever  once 
held  him  from  stating  to  himself  the  results  of  his 
study  of  her  had  vanished,  leaving  him  no  name 
by  which  to  caU.  it.  He  found  that  he  could  smile 
at  her  whimsicalities,  and  reflect  upon  her  odd  de- 
velopment, and  regret  her  devouring  egotism,  with- 
out the  vision  of  her  making  dumb  his  voluble 
thought;  and  he  no  longer  regretted  the  incident 
that  gave  him  his  freedom.  He  realized  her  as 
he  painted  her,  and  the  realization  visited  him  less 
often,  much  less  often,  than  before.  Even  the  fact 
281 


282  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

that  she  knew  what  he  thought  gradually  became  an 
agreeable  one.  There  would  be  room  for  no  hypoc- 
risies between  them.  He  wished  that  Janet  Cardiff 
could  have  some  such  experience.  It  was  provok- 
ing that  she  should  be  still  so  loyally  avengle;  that 
he  would  not  be  able  to  discuss  Elfrida  with  her, 
when  he  went  back  to  London,  from  an  impersonal 
point  of  view.  He  had  a  strong  desire  to  say  pre- 
cisely what  he  thought  of  her  friend  to  Janet,  in 
which  there  was  an  obscure  recognition  of  a  duty 
of  reparation — obscure  because  he  had  no  overt  dis- 
loyalty to  Janet  to  charge  himseK  with,  but  none 
the  less  present.  He  saw  the  intimacy  between  the 
two  girls  from  a  new  point  of  view;  he  compre- 
hended the  change  the  months  had  made,  and  he 
had  a  feeling  of  some  displeasure  that  Janet  Cardiff 
should  have  allowed  herself  to  be  so  subdued,  so 
seconded  in  it. 

Kendal  came  back  a  day  or  two  before  Elfrida's 
disappearance,  and  saw  her  only  once  in  the  mean- 
time. That  was  on  the  evening — which  struck  him 
later  as  one  of  purposeless  duplicity — before  the 
Peach  Blossom  Company  had  left  for  the  provinces, 
when  he  and  EKrida  both  dined  at  the  Cardiffs\ 
With  him  that  night  she  had  the  air  of  a  chidden 
child ;  she  was  silent  and  embarrassed,  and  now  and 
then  he  caught  a  glance  which  told  him  in  so  many 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  283 

words  that  she  was  very  sorry^  she  hadn^t  meant  to, 
she  would  never  do  it  again.  He  did  not  for  a  mo- 
ment suspect  that  it  referred  to  the  scene  at  Lady 
HaUfax's,  and  was  more  than  half  real.  It  was 
not  easy  to  know  that  even  genuine  feeling,  with 
Elfrida,  required  a  cloak  of  artifice.  He  put  it  down 
as  a  pretty  pose,  and  found  it  as  objectit)nable  as  the 
one  he  had  painted.  He  was  more  curious,  perhaps, 
but  less  disturbed  than  either  of  the  Cardiffs  as  the 
days  went  by  and  Elfrida  made  no  sign.  He  felt, 
however,  that  his  curiosity  was  too  irreligious  to 
obtrude  upon  Janet  5  besides,  his  knowledge  of  her 
hurt  anxiety  kept  him  within  the  bounds  of  the  sim- 
plest inquiry,  while  she,  noting  his  silence,  beheved 
him  to  be  eating  his  heart  out.  In  the  end  it  was 
the  desire  to  relieve  and  to  satisfy  Janet  that  took 
him  to  the  Age  office.  It  might  be  impossible  for 
her  to  make  such  inquiries,  he  told  himself,  but  no 
obligation  could  possibly  attach  to  him,  except — and 
his  heart  throbbed  aflirmatively  at  this — the  obli- 
gation of  making  Janet  happier  about  it.  He  could 
have  laughed  aloud  when  he  heard  the  scheme  from 
Rattray^s  lips — it  so  perfectly  filled  out  his  picture, 
his  future  projection  of  Elfrida ;  he  almost  assured 
himself  that  he  had  imagined  and  expected  it.  But 
his  desire  to  relieve  Janet  was  suddenly  lost  in  an 
upstarting  brood  of  impulses  that  took  him  to  the 


284  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

railway  station  with  the  smile  still  upon  his  Hps. 
Here  was  a  fresh  development  j  his  interest  was 
keenly  awake  again,  he  would  go  and  verify  the 
facts.  When  his  earlier  intention  reoccurred  to 
him  in  the  train,  he  dismissed  it  with  the  thought 
that  what  he  had  seen  would  be  more  effective, 
more  disillusionizing,  than  what  he  had  merely 
heard.  He  triumphed  in  advance  over  Janet's  dis- 
illusion, but  he  thought  more  eagerly  of  the  pleasure 
of  proving,  with  his  own  eyes,  another  step  in  the 
working  out  of  the  problem  which  he  believed  he 
had  solved  in  Elfrida. 

"Big  house  to-night,  sir.  All  the  stalls  taken," 
said  the  young  man  with  the  high  collar  in  the  box 
office  when  Kendal  appeared  before  the  window. 

"  Pit,"  repUed  Kfendal,  and  the  young  man  stared. 

"Pit  did  you  say,  sir!  Well,  you'll  'ave  to  look 
slippy  or  you  won't  get  a  seat  there  either." 

Kendal  was  glad  it  was  a  fuU  house.  He  began 
to  realize  how  very  much  he  would  prefer  that  El- 
frida should  not  see  him  there.  From  his  point  of 
view  it  was  perfectly  warrantable — he  had  no  sense 
of  any  obligation  which  would  prevent  his  adding 
to  his  critical  observation  of  her — but  from  Miss 
Bell's?  He  found  himself  lacking  the  assurance 
that  no  importance  was  to  be  attached  to  Miss 
Bell's  point  of  view,  and  he  turned  up  his  coat 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  285 

collar  and  pulled  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  and  seated 
himself  as  obscui-ely  as  possible,  with  a  satisfactory 
sense  that  nobody  could  take  him  for  a  gentleman, 
mingled  with  a  less  agTeeable  suspicion  that  it  was 
doubtful  whether,  under  the  circumstances,  he  had  a 
complete  right  to  the  title.  The  overture  strung  him 
up  more  pleasureably  than  usual,  however.  He  won- 
dered if  he  should  recognize  her  at  once,  and  what 
part  she  would  have.  He  did  not  know  the  piece, 
but  of  course  it  would  be  a  small  one.  He  wondered 
— for,  so  far  as  he  knew,  she  had  had  no  experience 
of  the  stage — how  she  could  have  been  got  ready 
in  the  time  to  take  even  a  small  one.  Inevitably  it 
would  be  a  part  with  three  words  to  say  and  noth- 
ing to  sing — probably  a  maid-servant^s.  He  smiled 
as  he  thought  how  sincerely  Elfrida  would  detest 
such  a  personation.  When  the  curtain  rose  at  last 
Mr.  John  Kendal  searched  the  stage  more  eagerly 
than  the  presence  there  of  any  mistress  of  her  art 
had  ever  induced  him  to  do  before.  The  first  act 
was  full  of  gaiety,  aud  the  music  was  very  toler- 
able ;  but  Kendal,  scanning  one  insistent  figure  and 
painted  face  after  another,  heard  nothing,  in  eifect, 
of  what  was  said  or  sung — he  was  conscious  only  of 
a  strong  disappointment  when  it  was  over  and 
Elfrida  had  not  appeared. 

The  curtain  went  up  again  to  a  quick-step,  to 
19 


286  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

clinking  steel,  and  the  sound  of  light  marching 
feet.  An  instant  after  forty  young  women  were 
rhythmically  advancing  and  retreating  before  the 
footlights,  picturesquely  habited  in  a  military  cos- 
tume comprising  powdered  wigs,  three-cornered  hats, 
gold-embroidered  blue  coats,  flesh-colored  tights,  and 
kid  top-boots,  which  dated  uncertainly  from  the 
middle  ages.  .  They  sang,  as  they  crossed  their 
varyingly  shapely  legs,  stamped  their  feet,  and 
formed  into  figures  no  drill-book  ever  saw,  a  chorus 
of  which  the  refrain  was 

*^0h,  it  never  matters,  matters, 
Though  his  coat  be  tatters,  tatters, 

His  good  sword  rust-inerusted  and  his  songs  all  sung, 
The  maids  will  flatter,  flatter. 
And  foes  will  scatter,  scatter, 

For  a  soldier  is  a  soldier  while  his  heart  is  young," 

the  last  line  accompanied  by  a  smiling  flirt  of  their 
eyes  over  their  shoulders  and  a  kick  to  the  rear  as 
they  wheeled,  which  evoked  the  unstinted  apprecia- 
tion of  the  house.  The  girls  had  the  unvarying 
pink-and-white  surfaces  of  their  profession,  but 
under  it  they  obviously  differed  much,  and  the  age 
and  emaciation  and  ugliness  among  them  had  its 
common  emphasis  in  the  contrast  of  their  smart 
masculine  attire  with  the  distressingly  feminine  out- 
lines of  their  figures.     ^^I  should  have  thought  it 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  287 

impossible  to  make  a  woman  absolutel}^  hideous  by  a 
dress  that  revealed  her  form,"  said  Kendal  to  him- 
self, as  the  jingling  and  the  dancing  and  the  music 
went  on  in  the  glare  before  him,  ^^but,  upon  my 
word — "  He  paused  suddenly.  She  wasn^t  abso- 
lutely hideous,  that  tall  girl  with  the  plume  and  the 
sword,  who  maneuvred  always  in  front  of  the  com- 
pany— the  lieutenant  in  charge.  Indeed,  she  was 
comely  every  way,  slight  and  graceful,  and  there 
was  a  singular  strong  beaut}^  in  her  face,  which  was 
enhanced  by  the  rouge  and  the  powder,  and  culmi- 
nated in  the  laugh  in  her  eyes  and  upon  her  lips — a 
laugh  which  meant  enjoyment,  excitement,  exhila- 
ration. * 

It  grew  upon  Kendal  that  none  of  the  chorus 
girls  approached  Elfrida  in  the  abandon  with 
which  they  threw  themselves  into  the  representa- 
tion— that  all  the  others  were  more  conscious  than 
she  of  the  wide-hipped  incongruity  of  their  role. 
To  the  man  who  beheld  her  there  in  an  abso- 
lutely new  world  of  light  and  color  and  coarse  jest, 
it  seemed  that  she  was  perfectly  oblivious  of  any 
other,  and  that  her  personality  was  the  most  ag- 
gressive, the  most  ferociously  determined  to  be 
made  the  most  of,  on  the  stage.  As  the  chorus 
ceased  a  half-grown  youth  remarked  to  his  com- 


288  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

panion  in  front,  "  But  the  orficer^s  the  one,  Dave ! 
Ain't  she  iiy ! ''  and  the  words  coming  out  distinctly 
in  the  moment  of  after-silence  when  the  applause 
was  over,  set  the  pit  laughing  for  two  or  three 
yards  around.  Whereat  Kendal,  with  an  assort- 
ment of  feelings  which  he  took  small  pleasure  in 
analyzing  later,  got  up  and  went  out.  People 
looked  up  angrily  at  him  as  he  stumbled  over  their 
too  numerous  feet  in  doing  so — ^he  was  spoiling  a 
solo  of  some  pathos  by  Mr.  Golightly  Ticke  in  the 
character  of  a  princely  refugee,  a  fui'-trimmed  man- 
tle, and  shoes  with  buckles. 

Kendal  informed  himself  with  some  severity  that 
no  possible  motive  could' induce  him  to  make  any 
comment  upon  Miss  Bell  to  Janet,  and  found  it 
necessar}^  to  go  down  into  Devonshire  next  day, 
where  his  responsibilities  had  begun  to  make  a 
direct  and  persistent  attack  upon  him.  It  was  the 
first  time  he  had  yielded,  and  he  could  not  help 
being  amused  by  the  remembrance,  in  the  train,  of 
Elfrida's  solemn  warning  about  the  danger  of  his 
growing  t^^pical  and  going  into  Parliament.  A 
middle-aged  country  gentleman  with  broad  shoul- 
ders and  a  very  red  neck  occupied  the  compartment 
with  him,  and  handled  the  Times  as  if  the  privilege 
of  reading  it  were  one  of  the  few  the  democratic 
spirit  of  the  age  had  left  to  his   class.      Kendal 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  289 

scanned  him  with  interest  and  admiration  and 
pleasure.  It  was  an  excellent  thing  that  England's 
backbone  should  be  composed  of  men  like  that,  he 
thought,  and  he  half  wished  he  were  not  so  con- 
sciously undeserving  of  national  vertebral  honors 
himself — that  Elfrida's  warnings  had  a  little  more 
basis  of  probability.  Not  that  he  wanted  to  drop 
his  work,  but  a  man  owed  something  to  his  coun- 
try, especially  when  he  had  what  they  called  a  stake 
in  it — to  establish  a  home  perhaps,  to  marry,  to 
have  children  growing  up  about  him.  A  man  had 
to  think  of  his  old  age.  He  told  himself  that  he 
must  be  the  lightest  product  of  a  flippant  time, 
since  these  things  did  not  occur  to  him  more 
seriously;  and  he  threw  himself  into  all  that  had 
to  be  done  upon  "  the  place,''  when  he  arrived  at  it, 
with  an  energy  that  disposed  its  r.eal  administra- 
tors to  believe  that  his  ultimate  salvation  as  a  land- 
lord was  still  possible. 

He  was  talking  to  Janet  Cardiff  at  one  of  Lady 
Halifax's  afternoon  teas  a  fortnight "  later,  when 
their  hostess  advanced  toward  them  interroga- 
.  tively.  "  While  I  think  of  it,  Janet,"  said  she,  lay- 
ing a  mittened  hand  on  Miss  Cardiff's  arm,  ^'  what 
has  become  of  your  eccentric  little  American  friend  ? 
I  sent  her  a  card  a  month  ago,  and  we've  neither 
heard  .nor  seen  anything  of  her." 


290  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

*^  Elfrida  Bell — oh,  she^s  out  of  town,  Lady  Hali- 
fax, and  I  am  rather  desolate  without  her — we 
see  so  much  of  her,  you  know.  But  she  will  be 
back  soon — I  dare  say  I  will  be  able  to  bring  her 
next  Thursday.  How  delicious  this  coffee  is!  I 
shall  have  another  cup,  if  it  keeps  me  awake  for  a 
week.  Oh,  you  got  my  note  about  the  concert, 
dear  lady  ?^' 

Kendal  noticed  the  adroitness  of  her  chatter  with 
amusement.  Before  she  had  half  finished  Lady 
Halifax  had  taken  an  initial  step  toward  moving 
off,  and  Janef  s  last  words  received  only  a  nod  and 
a  smile  for  reply. 

^'  You  know,  then  ?  *'  said  he,  when  that  excellent 
woman  was  safely  out  of  earshot. 

^'Yes,  I  know,''  Janet  answered,  twisting  the 
hanging  end  of  her  long-haired  boa  about  her  wrist. 
"I  feel  as  if  I  oughtn't  to,  but  daddy  told  me. 
Daddy  went,  you  know,  to  try  to  persuade  her  to 
give  it  up.  I  was  so  angry  with  him  for  doing  it. 
He  might  have  known  Elfrida  better.  And  it  was 
such  a — such  a  criticism  ! '' 

^^I  wish  you  would  tell  me  what  you  really 
think,''  said  Kendal  audaciously. 

Janet  sipped  her  coffee  nervously.  "  I — I  have  no 
right  to  think,"  she  returned.  ^'  I  am  not  in  Frida's 
confidence  in  the  matter.  But  of  course  she  is  per- 
fectly right,  from  her  point  of  view.'' 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  291 

^^  All !  "  Kendal  said,  ''  her  point  of  view." 

Janet  looked  up  at  him  with  a  sudden  perception 
of  the  coldness  of  his  tone.  In  spite  of  herself  it 
gave  her  keen  happiness,  until  the  reflection  came 
that  probably  he  resented  her  qualification,  and 
turned  her  heart  to  lead.  She  searched  her  soul  for 
words. 

'^  If  she  wants  to  do  this  thing,  she  has  taken,  of 
course,  the  only  way  to  do  it  well.  She  does  not 
need  any  justification — none  at  all.  I  wish  she 
were  back,"  Janet  went  on  desperately,  ^^but  only 
for  my  own  sake — I  don't  like  being  out  of  it  with 
her  5  not  for  any  reason  connected  with  what  she 
is  doing." 

There  was  an  appreciable  pause  between  them. 
^'  Let  me  put  down  your  cup,"  suggested  Kendal. 

Turning  to  her  again,  he  said  gravely,  "  I  saw 
Miss  Bell  at  Cheynemouth,  too."  Janet's  hands 
trembled  as  she  fastened  the  fur  at  her  throat. 
"And  I  also  wish  she  were  back.  But  my  reason 
is  not,  I  am  afraid,  so  simple  as  yours." 

"Here  is  daddy,"  Janet  answered,  "and  I  know 
he  wants  to  go.  I  don't  think  my  father  is  looking 
quite  as  well  as  he  ought  to.  He  doesn't  complain, 
but  I  suspect  him  of  concealed  neuralgia.  Please 
give  him  a  lecture  upon  over-doing — it's  the  pre- 
dominant vice  of  his  character ! " 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Elfrida  spent  five  weeks  with  the  Peacli  Blos- 
som Company  on  their  provincial  tour,  and  in  the 
end  the  manager  was  sorry  to  lose  her.  He  was 
under  the  impression  that  she  had  joined  them  as 
an  aspiring  novice,  presumably  able  to  gratify  that 
or  any  other  whim.  He  had  guessed  that  she  was 
clever,  and  could  see  that  she  was  extremely  good- 
looking.  Before  the  month  was  out  he  was  con- 
gratulating himself  upon  his  perception  much  as 
Rattray  had  a  habit  of  doing,  and  was  quite  ready 
to  give  Elf  rid  a  every  encouragement  she  wanted 
to  embrace  the  burlesque  stage  seriously — it  was  a 
thundering  pity  she  hadn't  voice  enough  for  comic 
opera.  He  had  nothing  to  complain  of  j  the  ar- 
rangement had  been  for  a  few  weeks  only,  and  had 
cost  him  the  merest  trifle  of  travelling  expenses; 
but  the  day  Elfrida  went  back  to  town  he  was  in- 
chned  to  parley  with  her,  to  discuss  the  situation, 
and  to  make  suggestions  for  her  future  plan  of 
action.  His  attitude  of  visible  regret  added  an- 
other thrill  to  the  joy  the  girl  had  in  the  thought  of 
292 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  293 

her  undertaking  5  it  marked  a  point  of  her  success, 
she  thought,  at  least  so  far  as  preliminaries  went. 
Already,  as  she  shrank  fastidiously  into  the  corner  of 
a  third-class  travelling-carriage,  her  project  seemed 
to  have  reached  its  original  and  notable  materiali- 
zation. Chapters  passed  before  her  eyes  as  they  do 
sometimes  in  dreams,  full  of  charm  and  beauty  j  the 
book  went  through  every  phase  of  comedy  and 
pathos,  always  ringing  true.  Little  half-formed 
sentences  of  admirable  art  rose  before  her  mind, 
and  she  hastily  bai*red  them  out,  feeling  that  she 
was  not  ready  yet,  and  it  would  be  mad  misery 
to  want  them  and  to  have  forgotten  them.  The 
thought  of  what  she  meant  to  do  possessed  her 
wholly,  though,  and  she  resigned  herself  to  dreams 
of  the  most  effective  arrangement  of  her  material, 
the  selection  of  her  publisher,  the  long  midnight 
hours  ^lone  with  Buddha,  in  which  she  should  give 
herself  up  to  the  enthralment  of  speaking  with 
that  voice  which  she  could  summon,  that  elusive 
voice  which  she  lived  only,  only  to  be  the  medium 
for — that  precious  voice  which  would  be  heard  one 
day,  yes,  and  listened  to. 

She  was  so  freshly  impressed  with  the  new  life- 
lights,  curious,  tawdry,  fascinating,  revolting,  above 
all  sharp  and  undisguised,  of  the  world  she  had  left, 
that  she  saw  them  already  projected  with  a  veri- 


294  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

similitude  which,  if  she  had  possessed  the  art  of 
it,  would  have  made  her  indeed  famous.  Her  own 
power  of  realization  assured  her  on  this  point — 
nobody  could  see,  not  divine  but  see^  as  she  did, 
without  being  able  to  reproduce;  the  one  implied 
the  other.  She  fingered  feverishly  the  strap  of  the 
little  hand-bag  in  her  lap,  and  satisfied  herself  by 
unlocking  it  with  a  key  that  hung  on  a  string  in- 
side her  jacket.  It  had  two  or  three  photogi-aphs 
of  the  women  she  knew  among  the  company,  another 
of  herself  in  her  stage  uniform,  a  bill  of  the  play, 
her  powder-puff  and  rouge-box,  a  scrap  of  gold  lace, 
a  young  Jew's  letter  full  of  blots  and  devotion, 
a  rather  vulgar  sapphire  bracelet,  some  artificial 
flowers,  and  a  quantity  of  slips  of  paper  of  all 
sizes  covered  with  her  own  enigmatically  rounded 
handwriting.  She  put  her  hand  in  carefully  and 
searched — everything  was  there;  and  up  from  the 
bag  came  a  scent  that  made  her  s^ut  her  eyes  and 
laugh  with  its  power  to  bring  her  experiences  back 
to  her.  She  locked  it  carefully  again  with  a  quiver- 
ing sigh — after  all  she  would  not  have  many  hours 
to  wait.  Presently  an  idea  cam^  to  her  that  she 
thought  worth  keeping,  and  she  thrust  her  hand 
into  her  pocket  for  paper  and  pencil.  She  drew 
out  a  crumpled  oblong  scrap  and  wrote  on  the  back 
of  it,  then  unlocked  the  little  bag  again  and  put  it 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  295 

carefully  in.  Before  it  had  been  only  the  check  of 
the  Illustrated  Age  for  a  fortnight's  work;  now  it 
was  the  record  of  something  valuable. 

The  train  rolled  into  a  black  and  echoing  station 
as  the  light  in  the  carriage  began  to  turn  from  the 
uncertain  gi'ayness  that  came  in  at  the  window  to 
the  uncertain  yellowness  that  descended  from  the 
roof.  Boys  ran  up  and  down  the  length  of  the  plat- 
form in  the  foggy  gaslit  darkness  shouting  Ban- 
bury cakes  and  newspapers.  Elfrida  hated  Ban- 
bur}^  cakes,  but  she  had  a  consuming  hunger  and 
bought  some.  She  also  hated  English  newspapers, 
but  lately  some  queer  new  notable  Australian 
things  had  been  appearing  in  the  St.  George^s  Ga- 
zette— Cardiff  had  sent  them  to  her — and  she  se- 
lected this  journal  from  the  damp  lot  that  hung 
over  the  newsboy's  arm,  on  the  chance  of  a  fresh 
one.  The  doors  were  locked  and  the  train  hurried 
on.  Elfrida  ate  two  of  her  Banbury  cakes  with  the 
malediction  that  only  this  British  conf  ecition  can  in- 
spire, and  bestowed  the  rest  upon  a  small  boy  who 
eyed  her  enviously  over  the  back  of  an  adjoining 
seat.  She  and  the  small  boy  and  his  mother  had 
the  carriage  to  themselves. 

There  was  nothing  from  the  unusual  Australian 
contributor  in  this  number  of  the  St.  George^s,  and 
Elfrida  turned  its  pages  with  the  bored  feeling  of 


296  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

knowing  what  else  she  might  expect.  ^^  Parliamen- 
tary Debates,"  of  course,  and  th'e  news  of  London, 
five  lines  from  America  announcing  the  burning 
of  a  New  York  hotel  with  hideous  loss  of  life,  an 
article  on  the  situation  in  Persia,  and  one  on  the 
cultivation  of  artichokes,  ^^  Money,''  ^^The  Seer  of 
Hawarden,"  the  foreign  markets — ^book  reviews. 
Elfrida  thought  also  that  she  knew  what  she  might 
expect  here,  and  that  it  would  be  nothing  very  ab- 
sorbing. Still,  with  a  sense  of  tasting  criticism  in 
advance,  she  let  her  eye  travel  over  the  column  or 
two  the  paper  devoted  to  three  or  four  books  of 
the  week.  A  moment  later  Janet  Cardiff's  name  in 
the  second  paragraph  had  sprung  at  her  throat,  it 
seemed  to  Elfrida,  and  choked  her. 

She  could  not  see — she  could  not  see !  The  print 
was  so  bad,  the  light  was  infernal,  the  carriage 
jolted  so.  She  got  up  and  held  the  paper  nearer 
to  the  lamp  in  the  roof,  staying  herself  against  the 
end  of  a  seat.  As  she  read  she  grew  paler,  and  th^ 
paper  shook  in  her  hand.  ^'One  of  tlje  valuable 
books  of  the  year,"  ^^  showing  grasp  of  character  and 
keen  dramatic  instinct,"  "  a  distinctly  original  vein," 
"too  slender  a  plot  for  perfect  symmetry,  but  a 
treatment  of  situation  at  once  nervous  and  strong,^' 
were  some  of  the  commonplaces  that  said  them- 
selves over  and  again  in  her  mind  as  she  sank  back 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  297 

into  her  place  by  the  window  with  the  paper  lying 
across  her  lap. 

Her  heart  beat  fui'ionsly,  her  head  was  in  a 
whirl;  she  stared  hard,  for  calmness,  into  the 
swift-passing  night  outside.  Presently  she  recog- 
nized herself  to  be  angry  with  an  intense  still 
jealous  anger  that  seemed  to  rise  and  consume  her 
in  every  part  of  her  being.  A  success — of  course  it 
would  be  a  success  if  Janet  wrote  it — she  was  not 
artistic  enough  to  fail.  Ah,  should  Janet's  friend 
go  so  far  as  to  say  that?  She  didn't  know — she 
would  think  afterward ;  but  Janet  was  of  those  who 
succeed,  and  there  were  more  ways  than  one  of 
deserving  success.  Janet  was  a  compromise ;  she 
belonged  really  to  the  British  public  and  the  class 
of  Academy  studies  from  the  nude  which  were 
always  draped,  just  a  little.  Elfrida  found  a  bitter 
satisfaction  in  this  simile,  and  elaborated  it.  The 
book  would  be  one  to  be  commended  for  jeunes 
filleSj  and  her  lips  turned  down  mockingly  in  the 
shadow.  She  fancied  some  well-meaning  critic  say- 
ing, ^^It  should  be  on  every  drawing-room  table," 
and  she  almost  laughed  outright.  She  thought  of 
a  number  of  other  little  things  that  might  be  said, 
of  the  same  nature  and  equally  amusing.  Her 
anger  flamed  up  again  at  the  thought  of  how  Janet 
had  concealed  this  ambition  from  her,  had  made 


298  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

her,  in  a  way,  the  victim  of  it.  It  was  not  fair — not 
fair !  She  could  have  prepared  herself  against  it  5 
she  might  have  got  her  book  read}^  sooner,  and  its 
triumphant  editions  might  at  least  have  come  out 
side  by  side  with  Janet's.  She  was  just  beginning 
to  feel  that  they  were  neck  and  neck,  in  a  way,  and 
now  Janet  had  shot  so  far  ahead,  in  a  night,  in  a 
paragraph.  She  could  never,  never  catch  up !  And 
from  under  her  closed  eyelids  two  hot  tears  started 
and  ran  over  her  cold  cheeks.  It  came  upon  her 
suddenly  that  she  was  sick  with  jealousy,  not  envy, 
but  pure  anger  at  being  distanced,  and  she  tried 
to  attack  herself  about  it.  With  a  strong  effort 
she  heaped  opprobrium  and  shame  upon  herself, 
denounced  herself,  tried  to  hate  herself.  But  she 
felt  that  it  was  all  a  kind  of  dumb-show,  and 
that  under  it  nothing  could  change  the  person  she 
was  or  the  real  feeling  she  had  about  this — nothing 
except  being  first.  Ah !  then  she  could  be  gener- 
ous and  loyal  and  disinterested  5  then  she  could  be 
reaUy  a  nice  person  to  know,  she  derided  herself. 
And  as  her  foot  touched  the  little  hand-bag  on  the 
floor  she  took  a  kind  of  sullen  courage^  which  de- 
serted her  when  she  folded  the  paper  on  her  lap  and 
was  struck  again  in  the  face  with  Lash  and  Black's 
advertisement  on  the  outside  page  announcing  Jan- 
et's novel  in  letters  that  looked  half  a  foot  long. 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  299 

Then  she  resigned  herself  to  her  wretchedness  till 
the  train  sped  into  the  glory  of  Paddington. 

^'  I  hope  yon^re  not  bad,  miss,"  remarked  the  small 
boy's  mother  as  they  pushed  toward  the  door  to- 
gether; ^'them  Banburys  don't  agree  with  every- 
body." 

The  effect  upon  Eifrida  was  hysterical.  She  con- 
trolled herself  just  long  enough  to  answer  with  de- 
cent gTavity,  and  escaped  upon  the  platform  to  burst 
into  a  silent  quivering  paroxysm  of  laughter  that 
brought  her  overcharged  feeling  delicious  relief,  and 
produced  an  answering  smile  on  the  face  of  a 
large,  good-looking  policeman.  Her  laugh  rested 
her,  calmed  her,  and  restored  something  of  her 
moral  tone.  She  was  at  least  able  to  resist  the  temp- 
tation of  asking  the  boy  at  the  book-stall  where  she 
bought  ''John  Camberwell"  whether  the  volume 
was  selling  rapidly  or  not.  Buddha  looked  on 
askance  while  she  read  it,  all  night  long  and  well 
into  the  morning.  She  reached  the  last  page  and 
flung  down  the  book  in  pure  physical  exhaustion, 
with  the  framework  of  half  a  dozen  reviews  in  her 
mind.  When  she  awoke,  at  two  in  the  afternoon, 
she  decided  that  she  must  have  another  day  or  two 
of  solitude;  she  would  not  let  the  Cardiffs  know 
she  had  returned  quite  yet. 

Three  days  afterward  the  Illustrated  Age  pub- 


300  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

lished  a  review  of  "John  Caniberwell"  which 
brought  an  agreeable  perplexity  to  Messrs.  Lash 
and  Black.  It  was  too  good  to  compress,  and  their 
usual  advertising  space  would  not  contain  it  all. 
It  was  almost  passionately  appreciative  j  here  and 
there  the  effect  of  criticism  was  obviously  maiTcd 
by  the  desire  of  the  writer  to  Ifet  no  point  of  beauty 
or  of  value  escape  di^dnation.  Quotations  from 
the  book  were  culled  like  flowers,  with  a  dehcate 
hand ;  and  there  was  conspicuous  care  in  the  avoid- 
ance of  any  phrase  that  was  hacknej^ed,  any  line  of 
criticism  that  custom  had  impoverished.  It  seemed 
that  the  writer  fashioned  a  tribute,  arid  strove  to 
make  it  perfect  in  every  way.  And  so  perfect  it 
was,  so  cunningly  devised  and  gracefully  expressed, 
with  such  a  self-conscious  beauty  of  word  and 
thought,  that  its  extravagance  went  unsuspected, 
and  the  interest  it  provoked  was  its  own. 

Janet  read  the  review  in  a  glow  of  remorseful 
affection.  She  was  appealed  to  less  by  the  exquisite 
manipulation  with  which  the  phrases  strove  to  say 
the  most  and  the  best,  than  by  the  loyal  haste  to 
praise  she  saw  behind  them,  and  she  forgave  their 
lack  of  blame  in  the  happy  belief  that  Elfrida  had 
not  the  heart  for  it.  She  was  not  in  the  least  angry 
that  her  friend  should  have  done  her  the  injustice  of 
what  would  have  been,  less  adroitly  managed,  in- 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  301 

discriminate  praise ;  in  fact,  she  hardly  thought  of 
the  value  of  the  critique  at  all,  so  absorbed  was  she 
in  the  sweet  sense  of  the  impulse  that  made  Elfrida 
write  it.  To  Janet^s  quick  forgiveness  it  made  up 
for  everything;  indeed,  she  found  in  it  a  scourge 
for  her  anger,  for  her  resentment.  Elfrida  might 
do  what  she  pleased,  Janet  would  never  ca\^il  again ; 
she  was  sure  now  of  some  real  possession  in  her 
friend.  But  she  longed  to  see  Elfrida,  to  assure 
herself  of  the  warm  verity  of  this.  Besides,  she 
wanted  to  feel  her  work  in  her  friend's  presence,  to 
extract  the  censure  that  was  due,  to  take  the  es- 
sence of  praise  from  her  eyes  and  voice  and  hand. 
But  she  would  wait.  She  had  still  no  right  to 
know  that  Elfrida  had  returned,  and  an  odd  sen- 
sitiveness prevented  her  from  driving  instantly  to 
Essex  Court  to  ask. 

The  next  day  passed,  and  the  next.  Lawrence 
Cardiff  found  no  reason  to  share  his  daughter's 
scruples,  and  went  twice,  to  meet  Mrs.  Jordan  on 
the  threshold  with  the  implacable  statement  that 
Miss  Bell  had  returned  but  was  not  at  home.  He 
found  it  impossible  to  mention  Elfrida  to  Janet 
now. 

John  Kendal  had   gone  back  to  Devonshire  to 

look  after  the  thinning  of  a  bit  of  his  woodlands — 

one  thing  after  another  claimed  his  attention  there. 
20 


302  A   DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

Janet  had  a  gay  note  from  him  now  and  then, 
always  en  camarade,  in  which  he  deplored  himself 
in  the  character  Of  an  intelligent  land-owner,  but  in 
which  she  detected  also  a  growing  interest  and  sat- 
isfaction in  all  that  he  was  finding  to  do.  Janet 
saw  it  always  with  a  throb  of  pleasure  j  his  art  was 
much  to  her,  but  the  sympathy  that  bound  him  to 
the  practical  side  of  his  world  was  more,  though  she 
would  not  have  confessed  it.  She  was  unconsciously 
comforted  by  the  sense  that  it  was  on  the  warm, 
bright,  comprehensible  side  of  his  interest  in  life 
that  she  touched  him — and  that  Elfrida  did  not 
touch  him.  The  idea  of  the  country  house  in  Devon- 
shire excluded  Elfrida,  and  it  was  an  exclusion 
Janet  could  be  happy  in  conscientiously,  since 
Elfrida  did  not  care. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Even  in  view  of  her  popular  magazine  articles 
and  her  hterary  name  Janet^s  novel  was  a  surpris- 
ing success.  There  is  no  reason  why  we  should 
follow  the  example  of  all  the  London  critics  except 
Elfrida  BeU,  and  go  into  the  detail  of  its  slender 
story,  and  its  fairly  original,  broadly  human  quali- 
ties of  treatment,  to  explain  this ;  the  fact  will,  per- 
haps, be  accepted  without  demonstration.  It  was 
a  common  phrase  among  the  reviewers — though 
Messrs.  Lash  and  Black  carefuUy  cut  it  out  of  their 
selections  for  advertisement — that  the  book  with 
all  its  merits  was  in  no  way  remarkable ;  and  the 
publishers  were  as  much  astonished  as  anj^body 
else  when  the  first  edition  was  exhausted  in  three 
weeks.  Yet  the  agreeable  fact  remained  that  the 
reviewers  gave  it  the  amount  of  space  usually  as- 
signed to  books  allowed  to  be  remarkable,  and  that 
the  Athenian  announced  the  second  edition  to  be 
had  ^^at  all  book-sellers^ ''  on  a  certain  Monday. 
"  When  they  say  it  is  not  remarkable,"  wrote  Kendal 
303 


304  A   DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

to  Janet,  ^^  they  mean  that  it  is  not  heroic,  and  that 
it  is  published  in  one  volume,  at  six  shillings.  To 
be  remarkable — to  the  trade — it  should  have  dealt 
with  epic  passion,  in  three  volumes,  at  thirty.^' 

To  him  the  book  had  a  charm  quite  apart  from  its 
literary  value  in  the  revelation  it  made  of  its  author. 
It  was  the  first  piece  of  work  Janet  had  done  from  a 
seriously  artistic  point  of  view,  into  which  she  had 
thrown  herself  without  fence  or  guard,  and  it  was 
to  him  as  if  she  had  stepped  from  behind  a  mask. 
He  wrote  to  her  about  it  with  the  confidence  of  the 
new  relation  it  established  between  them ;  he  looked 
forward  with  warm  pleasure  to  the  closer  intimacy 
which  it  would  bring.  To  Janet,  living  in  this  new 
sweetness  of  their  better  understanding,  only  one 
thing  was  lacking — Elfrida  made  no  sign.  If  Janet 
could  have  known,  it  was  impossible.  In  her  review 
Elfrida  had  done  aU  she  could.  She  had  forced  her- 
self to  write  it  before  she  touched  a  line  of  her  own 
work,  and  now,  persistently  remote  in  her  attic,  she 
strove  every  night  over  tlie  pile  of  notes  which  rep- 
resented the  ambition  that  sent  its  roots  daily  deeper 
into  the  fibre  of  her  being.  Twice  she  made  up  her 
mind  to  go  to  Kensington  Square,  and  found  she 
could  not — the  last  time  being  the  day  the  Decade 
said  that  a  new  and  larger  edition  of  "  John  Camber- 
well  "  was  in  preparation. 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  305 

Ten  days  after  her  return  the  maid  at  Kensing- 
ton Square,  with  a  curious  look,  brought  up  El- 
frida's  card  to  Janet.  Miss  Bell  was  in  the  draw- 
ing-room, she  said.  Yes,  she  had  told  Miss  Bell 
Miss  Cardiff  was  up  in  the  library,  but  Miss  Bell 
said  she  would  wait  in  the  drawing-room. 

Janet  looked  at  the  card  in  astonishment,  debat- 
ing with  herself  what  it  might  mean — such  a  for- 
mality was  absurd  between  them.  Why  had  not 
Elfrida  come  up  at  once  to  this  third-story  den  of 
theirs  she  knew  so  well?  What  new  preposterous 
caprice  was  this  ?  She  went  down  gravely,  chilled ; 
but  before  she  reached  the  drawing-room  door  she 
resolved  to  take  it  another  way,  as  a  whim,  as  matter 
for  scolding.  After  all,  she  was  glad  Elfrida  had 
come  back  to  her  on  any  terms.  She  went  in  ra- 
diant, with  a  quick  step,  holding  the  card  at  arm's 
length. 

^^To  what,''  she  demanded  mockingly,  ''am  I  to 
attribute  the  honor  of  this  visit  ? "  but  she  seized  El- 
frida lightly  and  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks  before  it 
was  possible  for  her  to  reply. 

The  girl  disengaged  herself  gently.  ''  Oh  I  have 
come,  like  the  rest,  to  lay  my  homage  at  your  feet," 
she  said,  with  a  little  smile  that  put  spaces  between 
them.  ''  You  did  not  expect  me  to  deny  myself  that 
pleasure  ? " 


306  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

"  Don^t  be  absurd,  Frida.  When  did  j^ou  come 
back  to  town?" 

"When  did  I  come  back?"  Elfrida  repeated 
slowly,  watching  for  the  effect  of  her  words.  "  On 
the  ^st,  I  think  it  was." 

"  And  this  is  the  tenth !  "  Janet  exclaimed  j  add- 
ing helplessly,  "  You  are  an  enigma !  Why  didn't 
you  let  me  know  ? " 

"How  could  I  suppose  that  you  would  care  to 
know  anything  just  now — except  what  the  papers 
tell  you." 

Janet  regarded  her  silently,  saying  nothing.  Un- 
der her  look  Elfrida's  expression  changed  a  little, 
grew  uncomfortable.  The  elder  gu-l  felt  the  chill, 
the  seriousness  with  which  she  received  the  card 
upstairs,  return  upon  her  suddenly,  and  she  became 
aware  that  she  could  not,  with  self-respect,  fight  it 
any  longer. 

"If  you  thought  that,"  she  said  gravely,  "it  was 
a  curious  thing  to  think.  But  I  believe  I  am  in- 
debted to  you  for  one  of  the  pleasantest  things  the 
papers  have  been  telling  me,'^  she  went  on,  with  con- 
straint.* "  It  was  very  kind — much  too  kind.  Thank 
you  very  much." 

Elfrida  looked  up,  half  frightened  at  the  revul- 
sion of  her  tone.     "  But — but  your  book  is  delight- 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  307 

ful.  I  was  no  more  charmed  than  everybody  must 
be.  And  it  has  made  a  tremendous  hit,  hasn't 
itr' 

^^  Thanks,  I  believe  it  is  doing  a  fair  amount  of 
credit  to  its  publishers.  The}^  are  very  pushing 
people." 

^'  How  delicious  it  must  feel !  "  Elf rida  said.  Her 
words  were  more  like  those  of  their  ordinary  rela- 
tion, but  her  tone  and  manner  had  the  aloofness  of 
the  merest  acquaintance.  Janet  felt  a  slow  anger 
grow  up  in  her.  It  was  intolerable,  this  dictation 
of  their  relation.  Elfrida  desired  a  change — she 
should  have  it,  but  not  at  her  caprice.  Janet's  innate 
dominance  rose  up  and  asserted  a  superior  right  to 
make  the  terms  between  them,  and  all  the  hidden 
jar,  the  unacknowledged  contempt,  the  irritation, 
the  hurt  and  the  stress  of  the  year  that  had  passed 
rushed  in  from  banishment  and  gained  possession  of 
her.  She  took  just  an  appreciable  instant  to  steady 
herself,  and  then  her  gray  eyes  regarded  Elfrida  with 
a  calm  remoteness  in  them  which  gave  the  other  girl 
a  quick  impression  of  having  done  more  than  she 
meant  to  do,  gone  too  far  to  return.  Their  glances 
met,  and  Elfrida's  eyes,  unquiet  and  undecided, 
dropped  before  Janet's.  Already  she  had  a  vibrant- 
regret. 


308  A   DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

"  You  enjoyed  being  out  of  town,  of  course,"  Janet 
said.  ^'  It  is  always  pleasant  to  leave  London  for  a 
while,  I  think." 

There  was  a  cool  masterfulness  in  the  tone  of  this 
that  ari'ested  Elfrida's  feeling  of  half -penitence,  and 
armed  her  instantly.  Whatever  desire  she  had  felt 
to  assert  and  indulge  her  indi^dduality  at  any  ex- 
pense, in  her  own  attitude  there  had  been  the  con- 
sciousness of  what  they  owed  one  another.  She  had 
defied  it,  perhaps,  but  it  had  been  there.  In  this  it 
was  ignored  J  Janet  had  gone  a  step  further — her 
tone  expressed  the  blankest  indifference.  Elfrida 
drew  herself  up. 

"Thanks,  it  was  delightful.  An  escape  from 
London  always  is,  as  you  say.  Unfortunately,  one 
is  obliged  to  come  back." 

Janet  laughed  lightly.  "  Oh,  I  don't  know  that  I 
go  so  far  as  that.  I  rather  like  coming  back  too. 
And  you  have  missed  one  or  two  things,  you  know, 
by  being  away." 

"  The  Lord  Mayor's  Show  1 "  asked  Elfrida,  angry 
that  she  could  not  restrain  the  curl  of  her  lip. 

"  Oh  dear,  no  !     That  comes  off  in  November — 

don't  you  remember  ?    Things  at  the  theatres  chiefly. 

'^Oh,  Jessie,  Jessie  !  "  she  went  on,  shaking  her  head  at 

the  maid  who  had  come  in  with  the  tray,  "you're 

a  quarter  of  an  hour  late  with  tea !     Make  it  for  us 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  309 

now,  where  you  are,  and  remember  that  Miss  Bell 
doesn^t  like  cream." 

The  maid  blushed  and  smiled  under  the  easy 
reproof,  and  did  as  she  was  told.  Janet  chatted 
on  pleasantly  about  the  one  or  two  first  nights 
she  had  seen,  and  Elfrida  felt  for  a  moment  that 
the  situation  was  hopelessly  changed.  She  had  an 
intense,  unreasonable  indignation.  The  maid  had 
scarcely  left  the  room  when  her  blind  search  for 
means  of  retaliation  succeeded. 

'^  But  one  is  not  necessarily  wholly  without  .di- 
versions in  the  provinces.  I  had,  for  instance,  the 
pleasure  of  a  visit  from  Mr.  Cardiff." 

*'  Oh  yes,  I  heard  of  that,"  Janet  returned,  smil- 
ing. ^'  My  father  thought  that  we  were  being  im- 
properly robbed  of  your  society,  and  went  to  try  to 
persuade  you  to  return,  didn't  he?  I  told  him  I 
thought  it  a  shocking  liberty;  but  you  ought  to 
forgive  him — on  the  ground  of  his  disappointment." 

The  cup  Elfrida  held  shook  in  its  saucer,  and  she 
put  it  down  to  silence  it.  Janet  did  not  know,  did 
not  suspect,  then.  Well,  she  should;  her  indiffer- 
ence was  too  maddening. 

^'  Under  the  circumstances  it  was  not  a  libei-ty  at 
all.  Mr.  Cardiff  wanted  me  to  come  back  to  marry 
him." 

There  !     It  was  done,  and  as  brutally  as  possible. 


310  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

Her  vanity  was  avenged — she  could  have  her  tri- 
umphs too.  And  instant  with  its  gratification  came 
the  cold  recoil  of  herself  upon  herself,  a  sense  of 
shame,  a  longing  to  undo. 

Janet  took  the  announcement  with  the  very  slight- 
est lifting  of  her  eyebrows.  She  bent  her  head 
and  stirred  her  teacup  meditatively,  then  looked  up 
gi-avely  at  Elfrida. 

"  Eeally  ? "  she  said.  "  And  may  I  ask — whether 
you  have  come  back  for  that  ? " 

*/ 1 — I  hardly  know,"  Elfrida  faltered.  "  You  know 
what  I  think  about  marriage — there  is  so  much  to 
consider." 

^^  Doubtless,"  Janet  returned.  Her  head  was  throb- 
bing with  the  question  why  this  girl  would  not  go — 
go — go!  How  had  she  the  hardihood  to  stay  an- 
other instant?  At  any  moment  her  father  might 
come  in,  and  then  how  could  she  support  the  situa- 
tion ?  But  all  she  added  was,  "  I  am  afraid  it  is  a 
matter  which  we  cannot  very  well  discuss."  Then  a 
bold  thought  came  to  her,  and  without  weighing  it 
she  put  it  into  words.  The  answer  might  put  every- 
thing definitely — so  definitely — at  an  end. 

^*  Mr.  Kendal  went  to  remonstrate  with  you,  too, 
didn't  he  f  It  must  have  been  very  troublesome  and 
embarrassing — " 

Janet  stopped.    Elfrida  had  turned  paler,  and  her 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  311 

eyes  greatened  with  excitement.  "  JVb/'  she  said,  ^'  I 
did  not  see  Mr.  Kendal.  What  do  you  mean  ?  Tell 
me ! " 

^^  Perhaps  I  have  no  right.  But  he  told  me  that 
he  had  seen  you,  at  Cheynemouth." 

"  He  must  have  been  in  the  audience,"  Elfrida  re- 
turned, in  a  voice  that  was  hardly  audible. 

"  Perhaps." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence  between  them — 
a  natural  silence,  and  no  dumbness.  They  had  for- 
gotten about  themselves  in  the  absoi'ption  of  other 
thoughts. 

^'  I  must  go,"  Elfrida  said,  with  an  effort,  rising. 
What  had  come  to  her  with  this  thing  Janet  had 
told  her  ?  Why  had  she  this  strange  fullness  in  the 
beating  of  her  heart,  this  sense,  part  of  shame,  part 
of  fright,  part  of  happiness,  that  had  taken  posses- 
sion of  her  ?  What  had  become  of  her  strained  feel- 
ing about  Janet?  For  it  had  gone,  gone  utterly, 
and  with  it  all  her  pride,  all  her  seK-control.  She 
was  conscious  only  of  a  great  need  of  somebody's 
strength,  of  somebody's  thought  and  interest — of 
Janet's.  Yet  how  could  she  unsay  anything !  She 
held  out  her  hand,  and  Janet  took  it.  ^^  Good-by, 
then,"  she  said. 

"  Good-by ;  I  hope  you  will  escape  the  rain." 

But  at  the  door  EKrida  tm-ned  and  came  back. 


312  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

Janet  was  mechanically  stirring  the  coals  in  the 
grate. 

^^  Listen !  "  she  said.  "  I  want  to  tell  you  some- 
thing about  myself." 

Janet  looked  up  with  an  inward  impatience.  She 
knew  these  little  repentant  self-rev^ealings  so  well. 

^'  I  know  Pm  a  beast — I  can't  help  it.  Ever  since 
I  heard  of  your  success  IVe  been  hating  it !  You 
can  laugh  if  you  like,  but  I've  been  jealous — oh,  I'm 
not  deceived ;  very  weU,  we  are  acquainted,  myself 
and  I !  It's  pure  jealousy — I  admit  it.  I  despise 
it,  but  there  it  is.  You  have  everything ;  you  suc- 
ceed in  all  the  things  you  do — you  suffocate  me — 
do  you  understand !  Always  the  fii'st  place,  always 
the  attention,  the  consideration,  wherever  we  go  to- 
gether. And  your  pretence — your  lie — of  believing 
my  work  as  good  as  yours !  I  believe  it — ^yes,  I  do, 
but  you  do  not.  Oh,  I  know  you  through  and  through, 
Janet  Cardiff !  And  altogether,"  she.  went  on  pas- 
sionately, '4t  has  been  too  much  for  me.  I  have 
not  been  able  to  govern  it.  I  have  yielded,  misera' 
Ne  that  I  am.  But  just  now  I  felt  it  going  away 
from  me,  Janet — "  She  paused,  but  there  was  no 
answer.  Janet  was  looking  contemplatively  into 
the  fire. 

"  And  I  made  up  my  mind  to  say  it  straight  out. 
It  is  better  so,  don't  you  think  ? " 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  313 

^^  Oh  yes,  it  is  better  so." 

"  I  hate  you  sometimes — when  yon  snffocate  me 
with  yonr  cleverness — but  I  admire  you  tremendously 
always.     So  I  suppose  we  can  go  on,  can't  we  ? 

^^Ah !  '^  Elfrida  cried,  noting  Janet^s  hesitation  with 
a  kind  of  wonder — how  should  it  be  exacted  of  her 
to  be  anything  more  than  frank?  ^'I  will  go  a  step 
further  to  come  back  to  you,  my  Janet.  I  will  tell 
you  a  secret — the  first  one  I  ever  had.  Don't  be 
afraid  that  I  shall  become  your  stepmother  and  hate 
me  in  advance.  That  is  too  absurd !  "  and  the  girl 
laughed  ringingly.  ^^  Because — I  believe  I  am  in  love 
with  John  Kendal !  " 

For  answer  Janet  turned  to  her  with  the  look  of 
one  pressed  to  the  last  extremity.  "  Is  it  true  that 
you  are  going  to  write  your  own  experiences  in  the 
corps  de  ballet  f  "  she  asked  ironically. 

'^  Quite  true.  I  have  done  three  chapters  already. 
What  do  you  think  of  it  ?     Isn't  it  a  good  idea  ? " 

"  Do  you  reaUy  want  to  know  ? " 

"  Of  course  !  " 

"  I  think,"  said  Janet  slowly,  looking  into  the  fire, 
^^that  the  scheme  is  a  contemptible  one,  and  that 
j^ou  are  doing  a  very  poor  sort  of  thing  in  carrying 
it  out." 

"  Thanks,"  Elfrida  returned.  ^^  We  a.re  all  pretty 
much  alike,  we  women,  aren't  we,  after  all  ?     Only 


314  A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

some  of  us  say  so  and  some  of  us  don't.  But  I 
shouldn't  have  thought  you  would  have  objected  to 
my  small  rivalry  hefore  the  fact !  " 

Janet  sighed  wearily,  and  looked  out  of  the  win- 
dow. "Let  me  lend  you  an  umbrella/'  she  said 5 
"  the  rain  has  come." 

"  It  won't  be  necessary,  thanks/'  Elfrida  returned. 
"I  hear  Mr.  Cardiff  coming  upstairs.  I  shall  ask 
him  to  take  care  of  me  as  far  as  the  omnibuses. 
Good-by ! " 


CHAPTER  XXYIII. 

"Oh  but — but,"  cried  Elfrida,  tragic-eyed,  "you 
don't  understand,  my  friend.  And  these  pretences 
of  mine  are  unendurable — I  won't  make  another. 
This  is  the  real  reason  why  I  can't  go  to  your  house : 
Janet  knows — everything  there  is  to  know.  I  told 
lier — I  myself — in  a  fit  of  rage  ten  days  ago,  and 
then  she  said  things  and  I  said  things,  and — and 
there  is  nothing  now  between  us  any  more ! " 

Lawrence  Cardiff  looked  grave.  "  I  am  sorry  for 
that,"  he  said. 

A  middle-aged  gentleman  in  apparently  hopeless 
love  does  not  confide  in  his  grown-up  daughter, 
and  Janet's  father  had  hardly  thought  of  her  se- 
riously in  connection  with  this  new  relation,  which 
was  to  him  so  precaiious  and  so  sweet.  Its  real- 
ization had  never  been  close  enough  for  practical 
considerations ;  it  was  an  image,  something  in  the 
clouds ;  and  if  he  still  hoped  and  longed  for  its  mate- 
rialization there  were  times  when  he  feared  even  to 
regard  it  too  closely  lest  it  should  vanish.  His  first 
thought  at  this  announcement  of  Elfrida's  was  of 
315 


316  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

what  it  might  signify  of  change,  what  bearing  it 
had  upon  her  feehng,  upon  her  intention.  Then  he 
thought  of  its  immediate  results,  which  seemed  to 
be  unfortunate.  But  in  the  instant  he  had  for  re- 
flection he  did  not  consider  Janet  at  all. 

^  "  Ah,  yes !  It  was  contemptible — but  contemptible  ! 
I  did  it  partly  to  hurt  her,  and  partly,  I  think,  to 
gratify  my  vanity.  You  would  not  have  thought 
anything  so  bad  of  me  perhaps?^'  She  looked 
up  at  him  childishly.  They  were  strolling  about 
the  quiet  spaces  of  the  Temple  Courts.  It  was  a 
pleasant  afternoon  in  February,  the  new  grass  was 
pushing  up.  They  could  be  quite  occupied  with  one 
another — they  had  the  place  almost  to  themselves. 
EKrida's  weU-fitting  shabby  little  jacket  hung  un- 
buttoned, and  she  swung  CardifPs  light  walking- 
stick  as  they  sauntered.  He,  with  his  eyes  on  her 
delicately  flushed  face  and  his  hands  unprof essoriaUy 
in  his  pockets,  was  counting  the  minutes  that  were 
left  them. 

"  You  wouldn't  have,  would  you  ? "  she  insisted. 

"I  would  think  any  womanly  fault  you  like  of 
you,''  he  laughed,  ^^  but  one — the  fear  to  confess  it." 

Elfrida  shut  her  lips  with  a  little  proud  smile. 
''Do  you  know,"  she  said  confidingly,  "when  you 
say  things  like  that  to  me  I  like  you  very  much — 
but  very  much ! " 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  317 

^^But  not  enough/^  he  answered  her  quickly, 
^^  never  enough,  Frida?^' 

The  girPs  expression  changed.  "  You  are  not  to 
call  me  ^Frida/'^  she  said,  frowning  a  little.  ^^It 
has  an  association  that  will  always  be  painful  to 
me.  When  people — disappoint  me,  I  try  to  forget 
them  in  every  way  I  can."  She  paused,  and  Cardiff 
saw  that  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  He  had  an 
instant  of  intense  resentment  against  his  daugh- 
ter. What  brutality  had  she  been  guilty  of  toward 
Elfrida  in  that  moment  of  unreasonable  jealousy 
that  surged  up  between  them  1  He  would  fiercely 
like  to  know.  But  Elfrida  was  smiling  again, 
looking  up  at  him  in  wilful  disregai^d  of  her  wet 
eyes. 

''  Say  ' Elfrida'  please— aU  of  it." 

They  had  reached  the  Inner  Temple  Hall.  ^^  Let 
us  go  in  there  and  sit  down,"  he  suggested.  ^'  You 
must  be  tired — dear  child." 

She  hesitated  and  submitted.  ^^Yes,  I  am,"  she 
said.  Presently  they  were  sitting  on  one  of  the 
long  dark  polished  wooden  benches  in  the  quiet  and 
the  rich  light  the  ages  have  left  in  this  place,  keep- 
ing a  mutual  moment  of  silence.  "How  splendid 
it  is ! "  Elfrida  said  restlessly,  looking  at  the  great 
carved   wooden    screen  they  had    come    through. 

"  The  man  who  did  that  had  a  joy  in  his  life,  hadn't 
21 


318  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

he  1  To-day  is  very  cheap  and  common,  don^t  you 
think?" 

He  had  hardly  words  to  answer  her  vague  ques- 
tion, so  absorbed  was  he  in  the  beauty  and  the 
grace  and  the  interest  with  which  she  had  suddenly 
invested  the  high-backed  corner  she  sat  in.  He  felt 
no  desire  to  anatyze  her  charm.  He  did  not  ask 
himself  whether  it  was  the  poetry  of  her  eyes  and 
lips,  or  her  sincerity  about  herself,  or  the  joy  in  art 
that  was  the  key  to  her  soul,  or  all  of  these,  or  some- 
thing that  was  none  of  them.  He  simply  allowed 
himself  to  be  possessed  by  it,  and  Elfrida  saw  his 
pleasure  in  his  eager  look  and  in  every  line  of  his 
delicate  features.  It  was  delicious  to  be  able  to  give 
such  pleasure,  she  thought.  She  felt  like  a  thrice 
spirituahzed  Hebe,  lifting  the  cup,  not  to  Jove, 
but  to  a  very  superior  mortal.  She  wished  in 
effect,  as  she  looked  at  him,  that  he  were  of  her 
essence — she  might  be  cup-bearer  to  him  always 
then.  It  was  a  graceful  and  unexacting  occupation. 
But  he  was  not,  absolutely,  and  the  question  was 
how  long —  She  started  as  he  seemed  to  voice  her 
thought. 

''  This  can^t  go  on,  EKrida !  " 

Cardiff  had  somehow  possessed  himself  of  her 
hand  as  it  lay  along  the  poHshed  edge  of  the  wooden 
seat.     It  was  a  privilege  she  permitted  him  some- 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  319 

times,  with  the  tacit  understanding  that  he  was  not 
to  abuse  it. 

"  And  why  not — for  a  little  while  1  It  is  pleasant, 
I  think." 

^^  If  you  were  in  love  you  would  know  why.  You 
are  not,  I  know — you  needn^t  say  so.  But  it  wiU 
come,  Elfrida — only  give  it  the  chance.  I  would 
stake  my  soul  on  the  certainty  of  being  able  to 
make  you  love  me."  His  confidence  in  the  power  of 
his  own  passion  was  as  strong  as  a  boy^s  of  twenty. 

"  If  I  were  in  love !  "  Elfrida  repeated  slowly,  with 
an  absent  smile.  ^^And  you  think  it  would  come 
afterward.  That  is  an  exploded  idea,  my  friend. 
I  should  feel  as  if  I  were  acting  out  an  old-fashioned 
novel — an  old-fashioned  second-rate  novel." 

She  looked  at  him  with  eyes  that  invited  him  to 
share  their  laughter,  but  the  smile  he  gave  her  was 
pitiful,  if  she  could  have  known  it.  The  strain  she 
had  been  putting  upon  him,  and  promised  indefi- 
nitely to  put  upon  him,  was  growing  greater  than 
he  could  bear. 

^'  I  am  afraid  I  must  ask  you  to  decide,"  he  said. 
"  You  have  been  telling  me  two  things,  dear.  One 
thing  with  your  lips  and  another  thing  with  your 
eyes — and  ways  of  doing.  You  tell  me  that  I  must 
go,  but  you  make  it  possible  for  me  to  stay.  For 
God's  sake  let  it  be  one  or  the  other." 


320  A  DAUGHTER   OF  TO-DAY. 

"I  am  SO  sorry.  We  could  be  friends  of  a  sort,  I 
think,  but  I  can't  marry  you." 

^^  You  have  never  told  me  why.'' 

"ShaU  I  teU  you  truly,  literally— brutally  T' 

^^  Of  course  !  " 

"  Then  it  is  not  only  because  I  don't  love  you — that 
there  is  not  for  me  the  common  temptation  to  enter  a 
form  of  bondage  which,  as  I  see  it,  is  hateful.  That  is 
enough,  but  it  is  not  aU ;  it  is  not  even  the  principal 
thing.  It  is" — she  hesitated — '4t  is  that — ^that  we 
are  different,  you  and  I.  It  would  be  preposterous," 
she  went  on  hastily,  ^'  not  to  admit  that  you  are  in- 
finitely superior — of  course — and  cleverer  and  wiser 
and  more  important  in  the  world.  And  that  will 
make  me  absurd  in  your  eyes  when  I  teU  you  that 
my  whole  life  is  wrapped  up  in  a  sense  which  I  can- 
not see  or  feel  that  you  have  at  all.  You  have  much 
— oh,  a  great  deal — outside  of  it,  and  I  have  nothing. 
My  life  is  swayed  in  obedience  to  laws  that  you  do 
not  even  know  of.  You  can  hardly  be  my  friend, 
completely.  As  your  wife  I  should  suffer  and  you 
would  suffer,  in  a  false  position  which  could  never 
be  altered." 

She  paused  and  looked  at  him  seriously,  and  he 
felt  that  she  believed  what  she  had  said.  She  had, 
at  all  events,  given  him  full  permission  to  go.  And 
he  was  as  far  from  being  able  to  avail  of  himself  of 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  321 

it  as  he  had  been  before — further,  for  every  moment 
those  slender  fingers  rested  in  his  made  it  more  im- 
possible to  relinquish  them,  for  always.  So,  he  per- 
sisted, with  a  bitter  sense  of  failure  that  would  not 
wholly,  honestly  recognize  itself. 

^'Is  Golightty  Ticke  your  friend — completely?" 

"  More — pardon  me — than  you  could  ever  be,"  she 
answered  hun,  undaunted  by  the  contempt  in  his 
tone. 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment  between  them. 
Elfrida^s  wide-eyed  gaze  wandered  appreciatively 
over  the  dusky  interior,  which  for  the  man  beside 
her  barely  existed. 

"What  a  lot  of  English  character  there  is  here," 
she  said  softly.  "  How  dignified  it  is,  and  conscien- 
tious, and  restrained ! " 

It  was  as  if  she  had  not  spoken.  Cardiff  stared 
with  knit  brows  into  the  insoluble  problem  she  had 
presented  to  him  a  moment  longer.  "  Hoiv  are  we 
so  different,  Elfrida?"  he  broke  out  passionatety. 
"  You  are  a  woman  and  I  am  a  man ;  the  world  has 
dealt  with  us,  educated  us,  differently,  and  I  am 
older  than  I  dare  say  I  ought  to  be  to  hope  for  your 
love.  But  these  are  not  differences  that  count, 
whatever  their  results  may  be.  It  seems  to  me 
trivial  to  speak  of  such  things  in  this  connection, 
but  we  like  very  much  the  same  books,  the  same 


322  A   DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

people.  I  grant  you  I  don't  know  anything  about 
pictures ;  but  surely/'  he  pleaded,  ^^  these  are  not  the 
things  that  cut  a  man  off  from  the  happiness  of  a 
lifetime ! " 

"  Pm  afraid — "  she  began,  and  then  she  broke  off 
suddenly.  ^^I  am  ^orry — sorrier  than  I  have  ever 
been  before,  I  think.  I  should  have  liked  so  well  to 
keep  your  friendship;  it  is  the  most  chivalrous  I 
know.  But  if  3^ou  feel  like — ^like  this  about  it  I 
suppose  I  must  not.  Shall  we  say  good-by  here  and 
now  f    Truly  I  am  sorry." 

She  had  risen,  and  he  could  find  no  words  to  stay 
her.  It  seemed  that  the  battle  to  possess  her  was 
over,  and  that  he  had  lost.  Her  desire  for  his 
friendship  had  all  the  mockery  of  freedom  in  it  to 
him — in  the  agony  of  the  moment  it  insulted  him. 
With  an  effort  he  controlled  himself — there  should 
be  no  more  of  the  futility  of  words.  He  must  see 
the  last  of  her  some  time — let  it  be  now,  then.  He 
bent  his  head  over  the  slender  hand  he  held,  brought 
his  lips  to  it,  and  then,  with  sudden  passion,  kissed  it 
hotly  again  and  again,  seeking  the  warm,  uncovered 
little  spot  above  the  fastening.  Elfrida  snatched 
it  away  with  a  little  shiver  at  the  contact,  a  little 
angry  shiver  of  sm'prised  nerves.  He  looked  at  her 
piteously,  struggling  for  a  word,  for  any  word  to 
send  away  her  repulsion,  to  bring  her  back  to  the 
mood  of  the  moment  before.    But  lie  could  not  find 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  323 

it ;  he  seemed  to  have  drifted  hopelessly  from  her, 
to  have  lost  all  his  reckonings. 

''Well?"  she  said.  She  was  held  there  partly  by 
her  sense  of  pity  and  partly  by  her  desire  to  see  the 
last,  the  very  last  of  it. 

"  Go !  "  he  returned,  with  a  shrinking  of  pain  at 
the  word,  "  I  cannot." 

^^Pauvre  ami!^^  she  said  softly,  and  then  she 
turned,  and  her  light  steps  sounded  back  to  him 
through  the  length  of  the  hall. 

Slie  walked  more  slowly  when  she  reached  the 
pavement  outside,  and  one  who  met  her  might  have 
thought  she  indulged  in  a  fairly  pleasant  reverie. 
A  little  smile  curved  about  the  corners  of  her  mouth, 
half  compassionate,  half  amused  and  triumphant. 
She  had  barely  time  to  banish  it  when  she  heard 
Cardiff's  step  beside  her,  and  his  voice. 

''I  had  to  come  after  you,"  he  said;  "Pve  let  you 
carry  off  my  stick." 

She  looked  at  him  in  mischievous  challenge  of  his 
subterfuge,  and  he  added  frankly,  with  a  voice  that 
shook  a  little  notwithstanding — 

"It's  of  no  use — I  find  I  must  accept  your  com- 
promise. It  is  very  good  of  you  to  be  willing  to 
make  one.  And  I  can't  let  you  go  altogether,  El- 
frida." 

She  gave  him  a  happy  smile.  "And  now,"  she 
said,  "  shall  we  talk  of  something  else  ? " 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

March  brought  John  Kendal  back  to  town  with 
a  few  Devonshire  studies  and  a  kindhng  discontent 
with  the  three  subjects  he  had  in  hand  for  the  May 
exhibitions.  It  spread  over  everything  he  had  done 
for  the  last  six  months  when  he  found  himself  alone 
with  his  canvases  and  whole-hearted  toward  them. 
He  recognized  that  he  had  been  dividing  his  in- 
terest, that  his  ambition  had  suffered,  that  his  hand 
did  not  leap  as  it  had  before  at  the  suggestion  of 
some  lyric  or  dramatic  possibility  of  color.  He 
even  fancied  that  his  drawing,  which  was  his  vul- 
nerable point,  had  worsened.  He  worked  strenu- 
ously for  days  without  satisfying  himself  that  he 
had  recovered  ground  appreciably,  and  then  came 
desperately  to  the  conclusion  that  he  wanted  the 
stimulus  of  a  new  idea,  a  subject  altogether  disasso- 
ciated with  anything  he  had  done.  It  was  only,  he 
felt,  when  his  spirit  was  whoUy  in  bondage  to  the 
charm  of  his  work  that  he  could  do  it  well,  and  he 
needed  to  be  bound  afresh.  Literally,  he  told  him- 
self, the  only  thing  he  had  painted  in  months  that 
324 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  325 

pleased  liim  was  that  mere  sketch,  from  memory,  of 
the  Halifax  drawing-room  episode.  He  dragged  it 
out  and  looked  at  it,  under  its  damaging  red  stripes, 
with  enthusiasm.  Whatever  she  did  with  herself, 
he  thought,  Elfrida  Bell  was  curiously  satisfying 
from  an  artistic  point  of  view.  He  fell  into  a  train 
of  meditation,  which  quickened  presently  into  a 
practical  idea  that  set  him  striding  up  and  down 
the  room. 

"I  believe  she  would  be  delighted!"  he  said 
aloud,  coming  to  a  sudden  standstill ;  ^^  and,  by  Jove, 
it  would  be  a  kind  of  reparation ! " 

He  delved  into  an  abysmal  cupboard  for  a  crusted 
pen  and  a  cobwebby  bottle  of  ink,  and  was  pres- 
ently sitting  among  the  fragments  of  three  notes 
addressed,  one  after  the  other,  to  ^^  Dear  Miss  Bell." 
In  the  end  he  wrote  a  single  line  without  any  for- 
mality^ whatever,  and  when  Elfrida  opened  it  an 
hour  later  she  read: 

"Will  you  let  me  paint  your  portrait  for  the 

Academy  ? 

"  John  Kendal. 

"  P.S. — Or  any  other  exhibition  you  may  prefer." 

The  last  line  was  a  stroke  of  policy.  "  She  ab- 
hors Burlington  House,"  he  had  reflected. 


326  A  DAUGHTER   OF  TO-DAY. 

The  answer  came  next  day,  and  he  tore  it  open 
with  rapid  fingers.  ''•  I  can^t  think  why — but  if  you 
wish  it,  yes.  But  why  not  for  the  Academy,  since 
you  are  disposed  to  do  me  that  honor?" 

"Characteristic,''  thought  Kendal  grimly,  as  he 
tore  up  the  note.  "  She  can'fc  think  why.  But  Fm 
glad  the  Academy  doesn't  stick  in  her  pretty  throat 
— I  was  afraid  it  would.  It's  the  potent  influence  of 
the  Private  View." 

He  wrote  immediately  in  joyful  gratitude  to 
make  an  aj)pointment  for  the  next  day,  went  to 
work  vigorously  about  his  preparations,  and  when 
he  had  finished  smoked  a  series  of  pipes  to  calm  the 
turbulence  of  his  anticipations.  As  a  neighboring 
clock  struck  five  he  put  on  his  coat.  Janet  must 
know  about  this  new  idea  of  his  5  he  longed  to  tell 
her,  to  talk  about  it  over  the  old-fashioned  Spode 
cup  of  tea  she  would  give  him — Janet  was  a  con- 
noisseur in  tea.  He  realized  as  he  went  downstairs 
how  much  of  the  pleasure  of  his  life  was  centering 
in  these  occasional  afternoon  gossips  with  her,  in 
the  mingled  delight  of  her  interest  and  the  fra- 
grance and  the  comfort  of  that  half -hour  over  the 
Spode  tea-cup.  The  association  brought  him  a  rem- 
iniscence that-  sent  him  smiling  to  the  nearest  con- 
fectioner's shop,  where  he  ordered  a  supply  of  Ital- 
ian cakes  against  the  next  day  that  would  make 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  327 

an  ample  provision  for  the  advent  of  half  a  dozen 
unexpected  visitors  to  the  studio.  He  would  have 
to  do  his  best  with  afternoon  sittings,  Elf  rid  a  was 
not  available  in  the  morning  j  and  he  thought  com- 
passionately that  his  sitter  must  not  be  starved. 
'^I  will  feed  her  first,"  he  thought  ironically,  re- 
membering her  keen  childish  enjoyment  of  sugared 
things.  ^'  She  will  pose  aU  the  better  for  some  tea." 
And  he  walked  on  to  Kensington  Square. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

"Janet,"  said  Lawrence  Cardiff  a  week  later  at 
breakfast,  "the  Halifaxes  have  decided  upon  their 
American  tour.  I  saw  Lady  Halifax  last  night  and 
she  tells  me  they  sail  on  the  twenty-first.  They 
want  you  to  go  with  them.  Do  you  feel  disposed 
to  do  it?" 

Mr.  Cardiff  looked  at  his  daughter  with  eyes  from 
which  the  hardness  that  entered  them  weeks  before 
in  the  Temple  Courts  had  never  quite  disappeared. 
His  face  was  worn  and  thin,  its  delicacy  had  sharp- 
ened, and  he  carried  about  with  him  an  habitual  ab- 
straction. Janet,  regarding  him  day  after  day  in 
the  light  of  her  secret  knowledge,  gave  herself  up  to 
an  inward  storm  of  anger  and  grief  and  anxiety. 
Elfrida^s  name  had  been  tacitly  dropped  between 
them,  but  to  Janet's  sensitiveness  she  was  con- 
stantly and  painfully  to  be  reckoned  with  in  their 
common  life.  Lawrence  Cardiff's  moods  were  ac- 
countable to  his  daughter  obviously  by  Elfrida's  in- 
fluence. She  noted  bitterly  that  his  old  evenness 
328 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  329 

of  temper,  the  gay  placidity  that  made  so  delight- 
ful a  basis  for  their  joint  happiness,  had  absolutely 
disappeared.  Instead,  she  found  her  father  either 
irritable  or  despondent,  or  inspired  by  a  gaiety 
which  she  had  no  hand  in  producing,  and  which 
took  no  account  of  her.  That  was  the  real  pain. 
Janet  was  keenly  distressed  at  the  little  drama  of 
suffering  that  unfolded  itself  daily  before  her,  but 
her  disapproval  of  its  cause  very  much  blunted  her 
sense  of  its  seriousness.  She  had,  besides,  a  grown- 
up daughter's  repulsion  and  impatience  for  a  pa- 
rental love-affair,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  she 
would  have  brought  her  father's  to  a  happy  conclu- 
sion without  a  very  severe  struggle  if  she  had  pos- 
sessed the  power  to  do  it.  But  this  exclusion  gave 
her  a  keener  pang ;  she  had  shared  so  much  with 
him  before,  had  been  so  important  to  him  always. 
And  now  he  could  propose,  with  perfect  equanimity 
that  she  should  go  to  America  with  the  Halifaxes. 

"  But  you  could  not  get  away  by  the  twenty-first,'' 
she  returned,  trying  to  take  it  for  granted  that  the 
idea  included  him. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  propose  going,"  Mr.  Cardiff  returned 
from  behind  his  newspaper. 

"  But,  daddy,  they  intend  to  be  away  for  a  year." 

"  About  that.  Lady  Halifax  has  arranged  a  cap- 
ital itinerary.     They  mean  to  come  back  by  India." 


330  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

^^And  pray  what  would  become  of  you  all  by 
yourseK  for  a  year,  sir?"  asked  Janet  brightly. 
'^  Besides,  we  were  always  going  to  do  that  trip  to- 
gether." She  had  a  stubborn  inward  determination 
not  to  recognize  this  difference  that  had  sprung  up 
between  them.  It  was  only  a  phase,  she  told  her- 
self, of  her  father's  miserable  feeling  just  now  5 
it  would  last  another  week,  another  fortnight,  and 
then  things  woidd  be  as  they  had  been  before.  She 
would  not  let  herself  believe  in  it,  hurt  as  it  might. 

Mr.  Cardiff  lowered  his  paper.  ^'  Don't  think  of 
that,"  he  said  over  the  top  of  it.  "  There  is  really 
no  occasion.  I  shall  get  on  very  well.  There  is 
always  the  club,  you  know.  And  this  is  an  oppor- 
tunity you  ought  not  to  miss." 

Janet  said  nothing,  and  Lawrence  Cardiff  went 
back  to  his  newspaper.  She  tried  to  go  on  with  her 
breakfast,  but  scalding  tears  stood  in  her  eyes,  and 
she  could  not  swallow.  She  was  unable  to  com- 
mand herself  far  enough  to  ask  to  be  excused,  and 
she  rose  abruptly  and  left  the  room  with  her  face 
turned  carefully  away. 

Cardiff'  followed  her  with  his  eyes  and  gave  an 
uncomprehending  shrug.  He  looked  at  his  watch ; 
there  was  still  half  an  hour  before  he  need  leave  the 
house.  It  brought  him  an  uncomfortable  thought 
that  he  might  go  and  comfort  Janet — ^it  was  evident 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  331 

that  something  he  had  said  had  hurt  her — she  was 
growing  absurdly  hypersensitive.  He  dismissed  the 
idea — Heaven  only  knew  into  what  complications  it 
might  lead  them.  He  spent  the  time  instead  in 
a  restless  walk  up  and  down  the  room,  revolving 
whether  Elfrida  Bell  would  or  would  not  be  brought 
to  reconsider  her  refusal  to  let  him  take  her  to 
^^  Faust  ^Hhat  night — ^he  never  could  depend  upon 
her. 

Janet  had  not  seen  John  Kendal  since  the  after- 
noon he  came  to  her  radiant  with  his  intention  of 
putting  all  of  Elfrida^s  elusive  charm  upon  canvas, 
full  of  its  intrinsic  difficulties,  eager  for  her  sym- 
pathy, depending  on  her  enthusiastic  interest.  She 
had  disappointed  him — she  did  her  best,  but  the  sym- 
pathy and  enthusiasm  and  interest  would  not  come. 
She  could  not  tell  him  why — ^her  broken  friend- 
ship was  still  sacred  to  her  for  what  it  had  been. 
Besides,  explanations  were  impossible.  So  she  lis- 
tened and  approved  with  a  strained  smile,  and  led 
him,  with  a  persistence  he  did  not  understand,  to 
talk  of  other  things.  He  went  away  chilled  and 
baffled,  and  he  had  not  come  again.  She  knew 
that  he  was  painting  with  every  nerve  tense  and 
eager,  in  oblivion  to  all  but  his  work  and  the  face 
that  inspired  it.  Elfrida,  he  told  her,  was  to  give 
him  three  sittings  a  week,  of  an  hour  each,  and  he 


332  A   DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

complained  of  the  scantiness  of  the  dole.  She  could 
conjure  up  those  hours,  all  too  short  for  his  delight 
in  his  model  and  his  work.  Surely  it  would  not  be 
long  now !  Elfrida  cared,  by  her  own  confession — 
Janet  felt,  dully,  there  could  now  be  no  doubt  of 
that — and  since  Elfrida  cared,  what  could  be  more 
certain  than  the  natural  issue?  She  fought  with 
herself  to  accept  it;  she  spent  hours  in  seeking  for 
the  indiiference  that  might  come  of  accustoming 
herself  to  the  fact.  And  when  she  thought  of  her 
father  she  hoped  that  it  might  be  soon. 

There  came  a  day  when  Lawrence  Cardiff  gave 
his  daughter  the  happiness  of  being  almost  his 
other  self  again.  He  had  come  downstairs  with,  a 
headache  and  a  touch  of  fever,  and  all  day  long  he 
let  her  take  care  of  him  submissively,  with  the  old 
pleasant  gratitude  that  seemed  to  re-establish  their 
comradeship.  She  had  a  joyful  secret  wonder  at 
the  change,  it  was  so  sudden  and  so  complete;  but 
their  sympathetic  relation  reasserted  itself  natu- 
rally and  at  once,  and  she  would  not  let  herself 
question  it.  In  the  evening  he  sent  her  to  her 
room  for  a  book  of  his,  and  when  she  brought  it  to 
him  where  he  la}^  upon  the  lounge  in  the  library  he 
detained  her  a  moment. 

^'You  mustn^t  attempt  to  read  without  a  lamp 
now,  daddy,''  she  said,  touching  his  forehead  lightly 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  333 

with  lier  lips.  "You  will  damage  your  poor  old 
eyes." 

"  Don't  be  impertinent  about  my  poor  old  eyes, 
miss/'  he  returned,  smiling.  "  Janet,  there  is  some- 
thing I  think  you  ought  to  know." 

"  Yes,  daddy."    The  girl  felt  herself  turning  rigid. 

"  I  want  you  to  make  friends  with  Elfrida  again. 
I  have  every  reason  to  believe — at  all  events  some 
reason  to  beheve — that  she  will  become  my  wife." 
Her  knowing  already  made  it  simpler  to  say. 

"Has — ^has  she  promised,  daddy?" 

"  Not  exactly.  But  I  think  she  will,  Janet."  His 
tone  was  very  confident.  "  And  of  course  you  must 
forgive  each  other  any  little  heart-burnings  there 
may  have  been  between  you." 

Any  little  heart-burnings!  Janet  had  a  quiv- 
ering  moment  of  indecision.  "Oh,  dadd}^  she 
won't !  she  won't !  "  she  cried  tumultuously,  and  hur- 
ried out  of  the  room.  Cardiff  lay  still,  smiling  pity- 
ingly. What  odd  ideas  women  managed  to  get  into 
their  heads  about  one  another !  Janet  thought  El- 
frida would  refuse  her  overtures  if  she  made  them. 
How  little  she  knew  Elfrida — his  just,  candid,  gen- 
erous Elfrida ! 

Janet  flung  herself  upon  her  bed  and  faced  the 

situation,  dry-eyed,  with  burning  cheeks.    She  could 

alwaj^s  face  a  situation  when  it  admitted  the  pos- 
22 


334  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

sibility  of  anj^thing  being  done,  when  there  was  a 
chance  for  resolution  and  action.  Practical  diffi- 
culties nerved  her ;  it  was  only  before  the  blankness 
of  a  problem  of  pure  abstractness  that  she  quailed — 
such  a  problem  as  the  complication  of  her  relation 
to  John  Kendal  and  to  Elfrida  Bell.  She  had 
shrunk  from  that  for  months,  had  put  it  away 
habitually  in  the  furthest  corner  of  her  conscious- 
ness, and  had  done  her  best  to  make  it  stay  there. 
She  discovered  how  sore  its  fret  had  been  only  with 
the  relief  she  felt  when  she  simplified  it  at  a  stroke 
that  afternoon  on  which  everything  came  to  an  end 
between  her  and  Elfrida.  Since  the  burden  of  ob- 
ligation their  relation  imposed  had  been  removed 
Janet  had  analyzed  her  friendship,  and  had  found 
it  wanting  in  many  ways  to  which  she  had  been 
wilfully  blind  before.  The  criticism  she  had  always 
silenced  came  forward  and  spoke  boldly;  and  she 
recognized  the  impossibility  of  a  whole-hearted  in- 
timacy where  a  need  for  enforced  dumbness  ex- 
isted. All  the  girPs  charm  she  acknowledged  mth 
a  heart  wrung  by  the  thought  that  it  was  no  longer 
for  her.  She  dwelt  separately  and  long  upon  El- 
frida's  keen  sense  of  justice,  her  impulsive  gener- 
osity, her  refined  consideration  for  other  people,  the 
dehcacy  of  some  of  her  personal  instincts,  her  abso- 
lute sincerity  toward  herself  and  the  world,  her  pas- 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY,  335 

sionat/C  exaltation  of  what  was  to  her  the  ideal  in 
art.  Janet  exacted  from  herself  the  last  jot  of 
justice  toward  Elfrida  in  all  these  things  j  and  then 
she  listened,  as  she  had  not  done  before,  to  the 
voice  that  spoke  to  her  from  the  very  depths  of  her 
being,  it  seemed,  and  said,  ^^Nevertheless,  no!^^ 
She  only  half  comprehended,  and  the  words  brought 
her  a  sadness  that  would  be  long,  she  knew,  in 
leaving  her;  but  she  listened  and  agreed. 

And  now  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  must  ignore  it 
again,  that  the  wise,  the  necessary,  the  expedient 
thing  to  do  was  to  go  to  Elfrida  and  re-establish,  if 
she  could,  the  old  relation,  cost  what  it  might.  She 
must  take  up  her  burden  of  obligation  again  in  order 
that  it  might  be  mutual.  Then  she  would  have  the 
right  to  beg  Elfrida  to  stop  playing  fast  and  loose 
with  her  father,  to  act  decisively.  If  Elfrida  only 
knew,  only  realized,  the  difference  it  made,  and  how 
little  right  she  had  to  control,  at  her  whim,  the  hap- 
piness of  any  human  being — and  Janet  brought  a 
strong  hand  to  bear  upon  her  indignation,  for  she 
had  resolved  to  go,  and  to  go  that  night. 

Lawrence  Cardiff  bade  his  daughter  an  early 
good-night  after  their  unusually  pleasant  dinner, 
"  Do  you  think  you  can  do  it  ? "  he  asked  her  before 
he  went.  Janet  started  at  the  question,  for  they 
had  not  mentioned  Elfrida  again,  even  remotely. 


336  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

"I  think  I  can^  daddy/'  she  answered  him 
gravely,  and  they  separated.  She  looked  at  her 
watch;  by  half -past  nine  she  could  be  in  Essex 
Court. 

Yes,  Miss  Bell  was  in,  Miss  Cardiff  could  go 
straight  up,  Mrs.  Jordan  informed  her,  and  she 
mounted  the  last  flight  of  stairs  with  a  beating 
heart.  Her  mission  was  important — oh,  so  impor- 
tant !  She  had  compromised  with  her  conscience  in 
planning  it,  and  now  if  it  should  fail !  Her  hand' 
trembled  as  she  knocked.  In  answer  to  Elfrida^s 
^'  Come  in !  "  she  pushed  the  door  slowly  open.  "  It 
is  I,  Janet,''  she  said ;  ^'  may  I  ? " 

^'  But  of  course  !  " 

Elfrida  rose  from  a  confusion  of  sheets  of  manu- 
script upon  the  table  and  came  forward,  holding 
out  her  hand  with  an  odd  gleam  in  her  eyes,  and 
an  amused,  shghtly  excited  smile  about  her  lips. 

"  How  do  you  do  1 "  she  said,  with  rather  ostenta- 
tiously suppressed  wonder.  "  Please  sit  down,  but 
not  in  that  chair.  It  is  not  quite  reliable.  This 
one,  I  think,  is  better.     How  are — how  are  you  f  " 

The  slight  emphasis  she  placed  on  the  last  word 
was  airy  and  regardless.  Janet  would  have  pre- 
ferred to  have  been  met  by  one  of  the  old  affec- 
tations; she  would  have  felt  herseK  taken  more 
seriously. 


A  DAUGHTER    OF  TO-DAY.  337 

"It's  very  late  to  come,  and  I  interrupt  yon," 
she  said  awkwardly,  glancing  at  the  manuscript. 

"  Not  at  all.     I  am  very  happy — ^" 

"  But  of  course  I  had  a  special  reason  for  coming. 
It  is  serious  enough,  I  think,  to  justify  me." 

^^  What  can  it  be?" 

^^  DonH,  Elfrida,"  Janet  cried  passionately.  ^'  Lis- 
ten to  me.  I  have  come  to  try  to  make  things  right 
again  between  us — to  ask  you  to  forgive  me  for 
speaking  as  I — as  I  did  about  your  writing  that 
day.     I  am  sorry — I  am,  indeed." 

"  I  don't  quite  understand.  You  ask  me  to  forgive 
you — ^but  what  question  is  there  of  forgiveness  ?  You 
had  a  perfect  right  to  your  opinion,  and  I  was  glad 
to  have  it  at  last  from  you,  frankly." 

"  But  it  offended  you,  Elfrida.  It  is  what  is  ac- 
countable for  the — the  rupture  between  us." 

"  Perhaps.  But  not  because  it  hurt  my  feelings," 
Elfrida  returned  scornfully,  "  in  the  ordinary  sense. 
It  offended  me  truly,  but  in  quite  another  way.  In 
what  you  said  you  put  me  on  a  different  plane  from 
yourself  in  the  matter  of  artistic  execution.  Very 
well.  I  am  content  to  stay  there — in  your  opinion. 
But  why  this  talk  of  forgiveness?  Neither  of  us 
can  alter  anything.  Onty,"  Elfrida  breathed  quickly, 
^'be  sure  that  I  will  not  be  accepted  by  you  upon 
those  terms." 


338  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

"  That  wasn't  what  I  meant  in  the  least." 

"What  else  could  you  have  meant!  And  more 
than  that/'  Elfrida  went  on  rapidly — ^her  phrases 
had  the  patness  of  formed  conclusions — '^  what  you 
said  betrayed  a  totally  diiferent  conception  of  art, 
as  it  expresses  itself  in  the  nudity  of  things,  from 
the  one  I  supposed  you  to  hold.  And,  if  you  will 
pardon  me  for  saying  so,  a  much  lower  one.  It 
seems  to  me  that  we  cannot  hold  together  there — 
that  our  aims  and  creeds  are  different,  and  that  we 
have  been  comrades  under  false  pretences.  Perhaps 
we  are  both  to  blame  for  that  j  but  we  cannot  change 
it,  or  the  fact  that  we  have  found  it  out." 

Janet  bit  her  lip.  The  "nudity  of  things" 
brought  her  an  instant's  impulse  toward  hysteria — 
it  was  so  characteristic  a  touch  of  candid  exaggera- 
tion. But  her  need  for  reflection  helped  her  to 
control  it.  Elfrida  had  taken  a  different  ground 
from  the  one  she  expected — ^it  was  less  simple, 
and  a  mere  apology,  however  sincere,  would  not 
meet  it.  But  there  was  one  thing  more  which  she 
could  say,  and  with  an  effort  she  said  it. 

"Elfrida,  suppose  that,  even  as  an  expression  of 
opinion — ^putting  it  aside  as  an  expression  of  f  eehng 
toward  you — what  I  said  that  day  was  not  quite 
sincere.  Suppose  that  I  was  not  quite  mistress  of 
myself — I  would  rather  not  tell  you  why — " 

"Is  that  true?"  asked  Elfrida  directly. 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  339 

"  Yes,  it  is  true.  For  the  moment  I  wanted  more 
than  anything  else  in  the  world  to  break  with  you. 
I  took  the  surest  means." 

The  other  girl  regarded  Janet  steadfastly.  ^'  But 
if  it  is  only  a  question  of  the  degree  of  your  sincerity/' 
she  persisted,  '^  I  cannot  see  that  the  situation  alters 
much.'' 

^'  I  was  not  altogether  responsible,  believe  me,  El- 
f  rida.  I  don't  remember  now  what  I  said,  but — but 
I  am  afraid  it  must  have  taken  all  its  color  from  my 
feeling." 

^^Of  course."  Elfrida  hesitated,  and  her  tone 
showed  her  touched.  "  I  can  understand  that  what  I 
told  you  about — about  Mr.  Cardiff  must  have  been 
a  shock.  For  the  moment  I  became  an  animal,  and 
turned  upon  you — upon  you  who  had  been  to  me 
the  very  soul  of  kindness.  I  have  hated  myself  for 
it — you  may  be  sure  of  that." 

Janet  Cardiff  had  a  moment's  inward  struggle, 
and  yielded.  She  would  let  Elfrida  believe  it  had 
been  that.  After  all  it  was  partly  true,  and  her  lips 
refused  absolutely  to  say  the  rest. 

^'  Yes,  it  must  have  hurt  you — more,  perhaps,  than 
I  can  guess."  Elfrida's  eyes  grew  wet  and  her  voice 
shook.  '^But  I  can't  understand  your  retaliating 
that  way  J  if  you  didn't  believe  what  you  said.  And 
if  you  believed  it,  what  more  is  there  to  say  ? " 

Janet  felt  herself  possessed  by  an  intense  sensa- 


340  A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

tion  of  playing  for  stakes,  unusual,  exciting,  and  of 
some  personal  importance.  She  did  not  pause  to 
regard  her  attitude  from  any  other  point  of  view ; 
she  succumbed  at  once,  not  without  enjoyment,  to 
the  necessity  for  diplomacy.  Under  its  rush  of 
suggestions  her  conscience  was  only  vaguely  restive. 
To-morrow  it  would  assert  itself ;  unconsciously  she 
put  off  paying  attention  to  it  until  then.  Elfrida 
must  come  back  to  her.  For  the  moment  the  need 
was  to  choose  her  plea. 

"  It  seems  to  me,'^  she  said  slowly,  "  that  there  is 
something  between  us  which  is  indestructible,  Frida. 
"We  didn^t  make  it,  and  we  can^t  unmake  it.  For 
my  part,  I  think  it  is  worth  our  preserving,  but  I  don't 
believe  we  could  lose  it  if  we  tried.  You  may  put 
me  away  from  you  for  any  reason  that  seems  good 
to  you,  as  far  as  you  like,  but  so  long  as  we  both 
live  there  will  be  that  something,  recognized  or  un- 
recognized. All  we  can  do  arbitrarily  is  to  make  it 
a  joy  or  a  pain  of  it.     Haven't  you  felt  that  ? '' 

The  other  girl  looked  at  her  uncertainly.  "I 
have  felt  it  sometimes,''  she  said,  ^'  but  now  it  seems 
to  me  that  I  can  never  be  sure  that  there  is  not 
some  qualification  in  it — some  hidden  flaw." 

^^  Don't  you  think  it's  worth  making  the  best  of  ? 
Can't  we  make  up  our  minds  to  have  a  little  charity 
for  the  flaws  ?'^ 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  341 

Elfrida  shook  her  head.  '^  I  don't  think  I'm  capa- 
ble of  a  friendship  that  demands  charity,"  she  said. 

"•  And  yet,  whether  we  close  each  other's  lips  or 
not,  we  will  always  have  things  to  say,  the  one  to  the 
other,  in  this  world.     Is  it  to  be  dumbness  between 

usr' 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  in  the  room — a  cru- 
cial moment,  it  seemed  to  both  of  them.  Elfrida 
sat  against  the  table  with  her  elbows  among  its 
litter  of  paged  manuscript,  her  face  hidden  in  her 
hands.  Janet  rose  and  took  a  step  or  two  toward 
her.  Then  she  paused,  and  looked  at  the  little 
bronze  image  on  the  table  instead.  Elfrida  was 
suddenly  shaken  by  deep,  indrawn,  silent  sobs. 

''■  It  is  finished,  then,"  Janet  said  softly ;  "  we  are 
to  separate  for  always,  Buddha,  she  and  I.  She  will 
not  know  any  more  of  me  nor  I  of  her — it  will  be, 
so  far  as  we  can  make  it,  like  the  grave.  You  must 
belong  to  a  strange  world,  Buddha,  always  to  smile  ! " 
She  spoke  evenly,  quietly,  with  restraint,  and  still 
she  did  not  look  at  the  convulsively  silent  figure  in 
the  chair.  ^^But  I  am  glad  you  will  always  keep 
that  face  for  her,  Buddha.  I  hope  the  world  will, 
too,  our  world  that  is  sometimes  more  bitter  than 
you  can  understand.  And  I  say  good-by  to  you, 
for  to  her  I  cannot  say  it."     And  she  turned  to  go. 

Elfrida  stumbled  to  her  feet  and  hurried  to  the 


342  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

door.  "  No !  "  she  said,  holding  it  fast.  "  No !  Yon 
mnst  not  go  that  way — I  owe  yon  too  mnch,  after 
all.     We  will — we  will  make  the  best  of  it." 

"Not  on  that  gronnd,"  Janet  answered  gravely. 
"Neither  yonr  friendship  nor  mine  is  purchasable, 
I  hope." 

"  No,  no !  That  was  bad.  On  any  ground  you 
like.  Only  stay  a  little — let  us  find  ourselves 
again  ! " 

Elfrida  forced  a  smile  into  what  she  said,  and 
Janet  let  herself  be  drawn  back  to  a  chair. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  she  found  herself 
again  in  her  cab,  driving  through  the  empty  lamp- 
lit  Strand  toward  Kensington.  She  had  prevailed, 
and  now  she  had  to  scrutinize  her  methods.  That 
necessity  urged  itself  beyond  her  power  to  turn 
away  from  it,  and  left  her  sick  at  heart.  She  had 
prevailed — Elfrida,  she  believed,  was  hers  again. 
They  had  talked  as  candidly  as  might  be  of  her 
father.  Elfrida  had  promised  nothing,  but  she 
would  bring  matters  to  an  end,  Janet  knew  she 
would,  in  a  day  or  two,  when  she  had  had  time  to 
think  how  intolerable  the  situation  would  be  if  she 
didn't.  Janet  remembered  with  wonder,  however, 
how  little  Elfrida  seemed  to  realize  that  it  need  make 
any  difference  between  them  compared  with  other 
things,  and  what  a  trivial  concession  she  thought 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  343 

it  beside  the  restoration  of  the  privileges  of  her 
friendship.  The  girl  asked  herself  drearily  how  it 
would  be  possible  that  she  should  ever  forget  the 
frank  cynical  surprise  with  which  Elfrida  had  re- 
ceived her  entreaty,  based  on  the  fact  of  her  father's 
unrest  and  the  wi-etchedness  of  his  false  hopes — 
'^  You  have  your  success ;  does  it  really  matter — so 
very  much  f " 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

"  To-day,  remember.  You  promised  that  I  should 
see  it  to-day,"  Elfrida  reminded  Kendal,  dropping 
instantly  into  the  pose  they  had  jointty  decided  on. 
"  I  know  Pm  late,  but  you  will  not  punish  me  by 
another  postponement,  will  you  ? " 

Kendal  looked  sternly  at  his  watch.  "A  good 
twenty  minutes,  mademoiselle,"  he  retui*ned  aggriev- 
edly.  "  It  would  be  only  justice — poetic  justice — ^to 
say  no.     But  I  think  you  may,  if  we  get  on  to-day." 

He  was  already  at  work,  tui^ning  from  the  texture 
of  the  rounded  throat  which  occupied  him  before 
she  came  in,  to  the  more  serious  problem  of  the 
nuances  of  expression  in  the  face.  It  was  a  whim 
of  his,  based  partly  upon  a  cautiousness,  of  which 
he  was  hardly  aware,  that  she  should  not  see  the 
portrait  in  its  earlier  stages,  and  she  had  made  a 
great  concession  of  this.  As  it  grew  before  him, 
out  of  his  consciousness,  under  his  hand,  he  became 
more  and  more  aware  that  he  would  prefer  to  post- 
pone her  seeing  it,  for  reasons  which  he  would  not 
pause  to  define.  Certainly  they  were  not  connected 
344 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  345 

with  any  sense  of  having  failed  to  do  justice  to  his 
subject.  Kendal  felt  an  exulting  mastery  over  it 
which  was  the  most  intoxicating  sensation  his  work 
had  ever  brought  him.  He  had,  as  he  painted,  a 
silent,  brooding  triumph  in  his  manipulation,  in  his 
control.  He  gave  himself  up  to  the  delight  of  his 
insight,  the  power  of  his  reproduction,  aud  to  the 
intense  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  out  of  the  two 
there  grew  something  of  more  than  usually  keen  in- 
trinsic interest  within  the  wide  creed  of  his  art.  He 
worked  with  every  nerve  tense  upon  his  conception 
of  what  he  saw,  which  so  excluded  other  considera- 
tions that  now  and  then,  in  answer  to  some  word  of 
hers  that  distracted  him,  he  spoke  to  her  almost 
roughly.  At  which  Elfrida,  with  a  little  smile  of 
forgiving  comprehension,  obediently  kept  silence. 
She  saw  the  artist  in  him  dominant,  and  she  exulted 
for  his  sake.  It  was  to  her  delicious  to  be  the  me- 
dium of  his  inspiration,  delicious  and  fit  and  sweetly 
acceptable.  And  they  had  agreed  upon  a  charming 
pose. 

Presently  Kendal  lowered  his  brush  impatiently. 
"  Talk  to  me  a  little,"  he  said  resentfully,  ignoring 
his  usual  preference  that  she  should  not  talk  be- 
cause what  she  said  had  always  power  to  weaken 
the  concentration  of  his  energy.  ^^  There  is  a  little 
muteness  about  the  lips.     Am  I  very  unreasonable  ? 


346  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

But  you  don't  know  what  a  difficult  creature  you 
are." 

She  threw  up  her  chin  in  one  of  her  bewitching 
ways  and  laughed.  "I  wouldn't  be  too  simple," 
she  returned.  She  looked  at  him  with  the  light  of 
her  laughter  still  in  her  eyes,  and  went  on:  '^I 
know  I  must  be  difficult — tremendously  difficult; 
because  I,  whom  you  see  as  an  individual,  am  so 
many  people.  Phases  of  character  have  an  attrac- 
tion for  me — I  wear  one  to-day  and  another  to-mor- 
row. It  is  very  flippant,  but  you  see  I  am  honest 
about  it.  And  it  must  make  me  difficult  to  paint, 
for  it  can  be  only  by  accident  that  I  am  the  same 
person  twice." 

Without  answering  Kendal  made  two  or  three 
rapid  strokes.  ^^  That's  better,'^  he  said,  as  if  to 
himself.  ^^  Go  on  talking,  please.  What  did  you 
say?" 

"  It  doesn't  seem  to  matter  much,"  she  answered, 
with  a  little  pout.  ^^I  said  'Baa,  baa,  black  sheep, 
have  you  any  wool  ? ' " 

''  No,  you  didn't,"  returned  Kendal  as  they  laughed 
together.  ''You  said  something  about  being  like 
Cleopatra,  a  creature  of  infinite  variety,  didn't  you  f 
About  having  a  great  many  disguises — "  absently. 
"  But—" 

Kendal  f  eU  into  the  absorbed  silence  of  his  work 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  347 

again,  leaving  the  sentence  unfinished.  He  looked 
up  at  her  with  a  long,  close,  almost  intimate  scrutiny, 
under  which  and  his  careless  words  she  blushed 
hotly. 

"  Then  I  hope  you  have  chosen  my  most  becom- 
ing disguise,"  she  cried  imperiously,  jumping  up. 
"  Now,  if  you  please,  I  will  see." 

She  stood  beside  the  canvas  with  her  eyes  upon 
his  face,  waiting  for  a  sign  from  him.  He,  feeling, 
without  knowing  definitely  why,  that  a  critical 
moment  had  come  between  them,  rose  and  stepped 
back  a  pace  or  two,  involuntarily  pulling  himself 
together  to  meet  what  she  might  say.  ^^Yes,  you 
may  look,"  he  said,  seeing  that  she  would  not  turn 
her  head  without  his  word  ]  and  waited. 

Elfrida  took  three  or  four  steps  beyond  the  easel 
and  faced  it.  In  the  first  instant  of  her  gaze  her 
face  grew  radiant.  ^^Ah,"  she  said  softly,  ^^how 
unconscionably  you  must  have  flattered  me !  I 
can't  be  so  pretty  as  that." 

A  look  of  relief  shot  across  KendaPs  face.  ^^  Pm 
glad  you  Like  it,"  he  said  briefly.  ^^It's  a  capital 
pose." 

The  first  thing  that  could  possibly  be  observed 
about  the  portrait  was  its  almost  dramatic  loveli- 
ness. The  head  was  turned  a  little,  and"  the  eyes 
regarded  something  distant,  with  a  half  wishful,  half 


348  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

deprecating  dreaminess.  The  Kps  were  plaintively 
courageous,  and  the  Hne  of  the  lifted  chin  and  throat 
helped  the  pathetic  eyes  and  anniliilated  the  heavi- 
ness of  the  other  features.  It  was  as  if  the  face 
made  an  expressive  effort  to  subdue  a  vitality  which 
might  otherwise  have  been  aggressive;  but  while 
the  full  value  of  this  eifect  of  spiritual  pose  was 
caught  and  rendered,  Kendal  had  done  his  work  in 
a  vibrant  significant  chord  of  color  that  strove  for 
the  personal  force  beneath  it  and  brought  it  out. 

Elf rida  dropped  into  the  nearest  chair,  clasped  her 
knees  in  her  hands,  and  bending  forward,  earnestly 
regarded  the  canvas  with  a  silence  that  presently 
became  perceptible.  It  seemed  to  Kendal  at  first,  as 
he  stood  talking  to  her  of  its  technicalities,  that  she 
tested  the  worth  of  every  stroke;  then  he  became 
aware  that  she  was  otherwise  occupied,  and  that  she 
did  not  hear  him.  He  paused  and  stepped  over  to 
where,  standing  behind  her  chaii',  he  shared  her 
point  of  view.  '  Even  the  exaltation  of  his  success 
did  not  prevent  his  impatient  wonder  why  his  rela- 
tion with  this  girl  must  always  be  so  uncomfortable. 

Then  as  he  stood  in  silence  looking  with  her,  it 
seemed  that  he  saw  with  her,  and  the  thing  that  he 
had  done  revealed  itself  to  him  for  the  first  time 
fully,  convincingl}^,  with  no  appeal.  He  looked  at  it 
with  curious,  painful  interest,  but  without  remorse, 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  349 

even  in  the  knowledge  that  she  saw  it  too,  and 
suffered.  He  realized  exultingly  that  he  had  done 
better  work  than  he  thought — he  might  repent  later, 
but  for  the  moment  he  could  feel  nothing  but  that. 
As  to  the  girl  before  him,  she  was  simply  the  source 
and  the  reason  of  it — he  was  particularly  glad  he 
had  happened  to  come  across  her. 

He  had  echoed  her  talk  of  disguises,  and  his 
words  embodied  the  unconscious  perception  under 
which  he  worked.  He  had  selected  a  disguise,  and, 
as  she  wished,  a  becoming  one.  But  he  had  not 
used  it  fairly,  seriously.  He  had  thrown  it  over  her 
face  like  a  veil,  if  anything  could  be  a  veil  which 
rather  revealed  than  hid,  rather  emphasized  than 
softened,  the  human  secret  of  the  face  underneath. 
He  realized  now  that  he  had  been  guided  by  a 
broader  perception,  by  deeper  instincts,  in  painting 
that.     It  was  the  real  Elfrida. 

There  was  still  a  moment  before  she  spoke.  He 
wondered  vaguely  how  she  would  take  it,  and  he 
was  conscious  of  an  anxiety  to  get  it  over.  At  last 
she  rose  and  faced  him,  with  one  hand,  that  trem- 
bled, resting  on  the  back  of  the  chair.  Her  face 
wore  a  look  that  was  almost  profound,  and  there 
was  an  acknowledgment  in  it,  a  degree  of  submis- 
sion, which  startled  him. 

^^So  that  is  how  you  have  read  me,^'  she  said, 
23 


350  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

looking  again  at  the  portrait.  ^'  Oh,  I  do  not  find 
fault  5  I  would  like  to,  but  I  dare  not.  I  am  not 
sure  enough  that  you  are  wi'ong — no,  I  am  too  sure 
that  you  are  right.  I  am,  indeed,  very  much  pre- 
occupied with  myself.  I  have  always  been — I  shall 
always  be.  Don't  think  I  shall  reform  after  this 
moral  shock  as  people  do  in  books.  I  am  what  I 
am.  But  I  acknowledge  that  an  egotist  doesn't 
make  an  agreeable  picture,  however  charmingly  you 
apologize  for  her.  It  is  a  personality  of  stone,  isn't 
it  ? — implacable,  unchangeable.     I've  often  felt  that." 

Kendal  was  incapable  of  denying  a  word  of  what 
she  said.  "If  it  is  an}^  comfort  to  you  to  know 
it,"  he  ventured,  "  hardly  any  one  will  see  in  it  what 
you — and  I — see." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  with  a  smile,  "that's  true.  I 
shan't  mind  its  going  to  the  Academy." 

She  sat  down  again  and  looked  fixedly  at  the 
picture,  her  chin  propped  in  her  hand.  "  Don't  you 
feel,"  she  said,  looking  up  at  him  with  a  little  child- 
ish gesture  of  confidence,  "as  if  you  had  stolen 
something  from  me  ? " 

"Yes,"  Kendal  declared  honestly,  "I  do.  I've 
taken  something  you  didn't  intend  me  to  have." 

"  Well,  I  give  it  you — it  is  yours  quite  freely  and 
ungrudgingly.  Don't  feel  that  way  any  more.  You 
have  a  right  to  yoin*  divination,"  she  added  bravely. 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  351 

"  I  would  not  withhold  it  if  I  could.  Only — I  hope 
you  find  something  good  in  it.  I  think,  myself,  there 
is  something." 

Her  look  was  a  direct  interrogation,  and  Kendal 
flinched  before  it.  "  Dear  creature,"  he  murmured, 
"  you  are  very  true  to  yourself." 

"And  to  you,"  she  pleaded,  "always  to  you  too. 
Has  there  ever  been  anything  but  the  clearest  hon- 
esty between  us  ?  Ah,  my  friend,  that  is  valuable — 
there  are  so  few  people  who  inspire  it." 

She  had  risen  again,  and  he  found  himself  shame- 
facedly holding  her  hand.  His  conscience  roused 
itself  and  smote  him  mightily.  Had  there  always 
been  this  absolute  single-mindedness  between  them  ? 

"  You  make  it  necessary  for  me  to  tell  you,"  he 
said  slowly,  "  that  there  is  one  thing  between  us  you 
do  not  know.  I  saw  you  at  Cheynemouth  on  the 
stage." 

"I  know  you  did,"  she  smiled  at  him.  "Janet 
Cardiff  let  it  out,  by  accident.  I  suppose  you  came, 
like  Mr.  Cardiff,  because  you — disapproved.  Then 
why  didn^t  you  remonstrate  with  me?  Pve  often 
wondered."  Elfrida  spoke  softly,  dreamily.  Her 
happiness  seemed  very  near.  Her  self-surrender 
was  so  perfect  and  his  understanding,  as  it  always 
had  been,  so  sweet,  that  the  illusion  of  the  moment 
was  cruelly  perfect.     She  raised  her  eyes  to  Ken- 


352  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

daPs  with  an  abandonment  of  tenderness  in  them 
that  quickened  his  heart-beats,  man  that  he  was. 

^^  Tell  me,  do  you  want  me  to  give  it  up — my  book 
— ^last  night  I  finished  it — my  ambition  ?  ^' 

She  was  ready  with  her  sacrifice,  or  for  the  in- 
stant she  believed  herself  to  be,  and  it  was  not 
wholly  without  an  effort  that  he  put  it  away.  On 
the  pretence  of  picking  up  his  palette  knife  he  re- 
linquished her  hand. 

"  It  is  not  a  matter  upon  which  I  have  permitted 
myself  a  definite  opinion,"  he  said,  more  coldly  than 
he  intended,  "but  for  your  own  sake  I  should  ad- 
vise it." 

For  her  own  sake  !  The  room  seemed  full  of  the 
echo  of  his  words.  A  blank  look  crossed  the  girPs 
face ;  she  turned  instinctively  away  from  him  and 
picked  up  her  hat.  She  put  it  on  and  buttoned 
her  gloves  without  the  faintest  knowledge  of  what 
she  was  doing;  her  senses  were  wholly  occupied 
with  the  comprehension  of  the  collapse  that  had 
taken  place  within  her.  It  was  the  single  moment 
of  her  life  when  she  differed,  in  any  important  way, 
from  the  girl  Kendal  had  painted.  Her  self-con- 
sciousness was  a  wreck,  she  no  longer  controlled  it ; 
it  tossed  at  the  mercy  of  her  emotion.  Her  face  was 
very  white  and  painfuUy  empty,  her  eyes  wandered 
uncertainly  around  the  room,  unwilling  above  all 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  353 

things  to  meet  Kendal's  again.  She  had  forgotten 
about  the  portrait. 

^^  I  will  go,  then,"  she  said  simply,  without  looking 
at  him,  and  this  time,  with  a  flash,  Kendal  compre- 
hended again.  He  held  the  door  open  for  her 
mutely,  with  the  keenest  pang  his  pleasant  life  had 
ever  brought  him,  and  she  passed  out  and  down  the 
dingy  stairs. 

On  the  first  landing  she  paused  and  turned.  "I 
will  never  be  different,"  she  said  aloud,  as  if  he  were 
still  beside  her,  "  I  will  never  be  different !  "  She 
swiftly  unbuttoned  one  of  her  gloves  and  fingered 
the  curious  silver  ring  that  gleamed  uncertainly  on 
her  hand  in  the  shabby  light  of  the  staircase.  The 
alternative  within  it,  the  alternative  like  a  bit  of 
brown  sugar,  offered  itself  very  suggestively  at  the 
moment.  She  looked  around  her  at  the  dingy  place 
she  stood  in,  and  in  imagination  threw  herself 
across  the  lowest  step.  Even  at  that  miserable 
moment  she  was  aware  of  the  strong,  the  artistic, 
the  effective  thing  to  do.  "And  when  he  came 
down  he  might  tread  on  me,"  she  said  to  herself, 
with  a  little  shudder.  "  I  wish  I  had  the  courage. 
But  no — it  might  hurt,  after  all.  I  am  a  coward, 
too." 

She  had  an  overwhelming  realization  of  impotence 
in  eveiy  direction.    It  came  upon  her  like  a  burden ; 


354  A  DAUGHTER   OF  TO-DAY. 

under  it  she  grew  sick  and  faint.  At  the  door  she 
stumbled,  and  she  was  hardly  sure  of  her  steps  to 
her  cab,  which  was  drawn  up  by  the  curbstone,  and 
in  which  she  presently  went  blindly  home. 

By  ten  o'clock  that  night  she  had  herself,  in  a 
manner,  in  hand  again.  Her  eyes  were  still  wide 
and  bitter,  and  the  baffled,  uncomprehending  look 
had  not  quite  gone  out  of  them,  but  a  line  or  two 
of  cynical  acceptance  had  drawn  themselves  round 
her  lips.  She  had  sat  so  long  and  so  quietly  regard- 
ing the  situation  that  she  became  conscious  of  the 
physical  discomfort  of  stiffened  limbs.  She  leaned 
back  in  her  chair  and  put  her  feet  on  another,  and 
lighted  a  cigarette. 

"No,  Buddha,'^  she  said,  as  if  to  a  confessor, 
"  don't  think  it  of  me.  It  was  a  lie,  a  pose  to  tempt 
him  on.  I  would  never  have  given  it  up — never ! 
It  is  more  to  me — I  am  almost  sure — than  he  is.  It 
is  part  of  my  soul,  Buddha,  and  my  love  for  him — 
oh,  I  cannot  tell ! '' 

She  threw  the  cigarette  away  from  her  and  stared 
at  the  smiling  image  with  heavy  eyes  in  silence. 
Then  she  went  on : 

"But  I  always  teU.  you  everything,  little  bronze 
god,  and  I  won't  keep  back  even  this.  There  was  a 
moment  when  I  would  have  let  him  take  me  in  his 
anns  and  hold  me  close,  close  to  him.     And  I  wish 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  355 

lie  had — I  should  have  had  it  to  remember.  Bah ! 
why  is  my  face  hot !  I  might  as  well  be  ashamed 
of  wanting  my  dinner !  ^' 

Again  she  dropped  into  silence,  and  when  next 
she  spoke  her  whole  face  had  hardened. 

"  But  no !  He  thinks  that  he  has  read  me  finally, 
that  he  has  done  with  me,  that  I  no  longer  count ! 
He  will  marry  some  red-and- white  cow  of  an  Eng- 
lishwoman who  will  accept  herself  in  the  light  of  a 
reproductive  agent  and  do  her  duty  by  him  accord- 
ingly.  As  I  would  not — no !  Good  heavens,  no ! 
So  perhaps  it  is  as  well,  for  I  will  go  on  loving  him, 
of  course,  and  some  day  he  will  come  back  to  me, 
in  his  shackles,  and  together,  whatever  we  do,  we 
will  make  no  vulgar  mess  of  it.  In  the  meantime, 
Buddha,  I  will  smile,  like  you. 

^'  And  there  is  always  this,  which  is  the  best  of 
me.  You  agree,  don't  you,  that  it  is  the  best  of 
me?"  She  fingered  the  manuscript  in  her  lap. 
^'  All  my  power,  all  my  joy,  the  quintessence  of  my 
life !  I  think  I  shall  be  angry  if  it  has  a  common 
success,  if  the  people  like  it  too  well.  I  only  want 
recognition  for  it — recognition  and  acknowledgment 
and  admission.  I  want  George  Meredith  to  ask  to 
be  introduced  to  me !  "  She  made  rather  a  pitiful 
effort  to  smile.  "And  that,  Buddha,  is  what  will 
happen." 


356  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

Mechanically  she  lighted  another  cigarette  and 
turned  over  her  first  rough  pages — a  copy  had  gone 
to  Rattray — looking  for  passages  she  had  wrought 
most  to  her  satisfaction.  They  left  her  cold  as  she 
read  them,  but  she  was  not  unaware  that  the  reason 
of  this  lay  elsewhere;  and  when  she  went  to  bed 
she  put  the  packet  under  her  pillow  and  slept  a 
little  better  for  the  comfort  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

In  the  week  that  followed  Janet  Cardiff^s  visit  to 
Elfrida's  attic,  these  two  young  women  went  through 
a  curious  reapproachment.  At  every  step  it  was 
tentative,  but  at  every  step  it  was  also  enjoyable. 
They  made  sacrifices  to  meet  on  most  days ;  they 
took  long  walks  together,  and  arranged  lunches  at 
out-of-the-way  restaurants  j  they  canvassed  eagerly 
such  matters  of  interest  in  the  world  that  supremely 
attracted  them  as  had  been  lying  undiscussed  be- 
tween them  until  now.  The  intrinsic  pleasure  that 
was  in  each  for  the  other  had  been  enhanced  by 
deprivation,  and  they  tasted  it  again  with  a  keen- 
ness of  savor  which  was  a  surprise  to  both  of  them. 
Their  mutual  understanding  of  most  things,  their 
common  point  of  view,  reasserted  itself  more  strong- 
ly than  ever  as  a  mutual  possession  j  they  could  not 
help  perceiving  its  value.  Janet  made  a  fairly  suc- 
cessful attempt  to  drown  her  sense  of  insincerity 
in  the  recognition.  She,  Janet,  was  conscious  of  a 
deliberate  effort  to  widen  and  deepen  the  sympathy 
between  them.  An  obscure  desire  to  make  repara- 
357 


358  A   DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

tion,  she  hardly  knew  for  what,  combined  itself  with 
a  great  longing  to  see  their  friendship  the  altogether 
beautiful  and  perfect  thing  its  mirage  was,  and 
pushed  her  on  to  seize  every  opportunity  to  fortify 
the  place  she  had  retaken.  Elfrida  had  never  found 
her  so  considerate,  so  appreciative,  so  amusing,  so 
prodigal  of  her  gay  ideas,  or  so  much  inclined  to 
go  upon  her  knees  at  shrines  before  which  she 
sometimes  stood  and  mocked.  She  had  a  special 
happiness  in  availing  herself  of  an  opportimity 
which  resulted  in  Elfrida's  receiving  a  letter  from 
the  editor  of  the  St.  George^s  asking  her  for  two  or 
three  articles  on  the  American  Colony  in  Paris,  and 
only  very  occasionally  she  recognized,  with  a  subtle 
thrill  of  disgust,  that  she  was  employing  diplomacy 
in  every  action,  every  word,  almost  every  look 
which  concerned  her  friend.  She  asked  herself  then 
despairingly  how  it  could  last  and  what  good  could 
come  of  it,  whereupon  fifty  considerations,  armed 
with  whips,  drove  her  on. 

Perhaps  the  most  potent  of  these  was  the  con- 
sciousness that  in  spite  of  it  all  she  was  not  wholly 
successful,  that  as  between  Elfrida  and  herself  things 
were  not  entirely  as  they  had  been.  They  were  cor- 
dial, they  were  mutualty  appreciative,  they  had 
moments  of  expansive  intercourse ;  but  Janet  could 
not  disguise  to  herseK  the  fact  that  there  was  a 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  359 

difference,  the  difference  between  fit  and  fusion. 
The  impression  was  not  a  strong  one,  but  she  half 
suspected  her  friend  now  and  then  of  intently 
watching  her,  and  she  could  not  help  observing  how 
reticent  the  girl  had  become  upon  certain  subjects 
that  touched  her  personally.  The  actress  in  Elfrida 
was  nevertheless  constantly  supreme,  and  interfered 
with  the  trustworthiness  of  any  single  impression. 
She  could  not  resist  the  pardoning  role ;  she  played 
it  intermittently,  with  a  pretty  impulsiveness  that 
would  have  amused  Miss  Cardiff  more  if  it  had 
irritated  her  less.  For  the  certainty  that  Elfrida 
would  be  her  former  self  for  three  days  together 
Janet  would  have  dispensed  gladly  with  the  little 
Bohemian  dinner  in  Essex  Court  in  honor  of  her 
book,  or  the  violets  that  sometimes  dropped  out  of 
Elf  rida^s  notes,  or  even  the  sudden  but  premeditated 
occasional  offer  of  Elfrida's  lips. 

Meanwhile  the  Halifaxes  were  urging  their  west- 
ern trip  upon  her.  Lady  Halifax  declaring  roundly 
that  she  was  looking  wretchedly.  Miss  Halifax  sug- 
gesting playfully  the  possibility  of  an  American 
heroine  for  her  next  novel.  Janet,  repelling  both 
publicly,  admitted  both  privately.  She  felt  worn 
out  physically,  and  when  she  thought  of  producing 
another  book  her  brain  responded  with  a  helpless 
negative.     She  had  been  turning  lately  with  dogged 


360  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

conviction  to  her  work  as  the  only  solace  life  was 
likely  to  offer  her,  and  anything  that  hinted  at  loss 
of  power  filled  her  with  blank  dismay.  She  was 
desperately  weary  and  she  wanted  to  forget,  desir- 
ing, besides,  some  sort  of  stimulus  as  a  flagging 
swimmer  desires  a  rope. 

One  more  reason  came  and  took  possession  of 
her  common  sense.  Between  her  father  and  Elf rida 
she  felt  herself  a  complication.  If  she  could  bring 
herself  to  consent  to  her  own  removal,  the  situa- 
tion, she  could  not  help  seeing,  would  be  consider- 
ably simplified.  She  read  plainly  in  her  father 
that  the  finahty  Elf  rida  promised  had  not  yet  been 
given — doubtless  an  opportunity  had  not  yet  oc- 
curred 5  and  Janet  was  willing  to  concede  that 
the  circumstances  might  require  a  rather  special 
opportunity.  When  it  should  occur  she  recog- 
nized that  delicacy,  decency  almost,  demanded  that 
she  should  be  out  of  the  way.  She  shrank  miser- 
ably from  the  prospect  of  being  a  daily  famihar 
looker-on  at  the  spectacle  of  Lawrence  Cardiff's 
pain,  and  she  had  a  knowledge  that  there  would  be 
somehow  an  aggravation  of  it  in  her  person.  In  a 
year  everything  would  mend  itself  more  or  less, 
she  believed  duUy  and  tried  to  feel.  Her  father 
would  be  the  same  again,  with  his  old  good-humor 
and  criticism  of  her  enthusiasms,  his  old  interest 
in  things  and  people,  his  old  comradeship  for  her. 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  361 

John  Kendal  would  have  married  Elfrida  Bell — 
what  an  idyll  they  would  make  of  life  together ! — and 
she,  Janet,  would  have  accepted  the  situation.  Her 
interest  in  the  prospective  pleasures  on  which  Lady 
Halifax  expatiated  was  slight;  she  was  obliged  to 
speculate  upon  its  rising,  which  she  did  with  all  the 
confidence  she  could  command.  She  declined  abso- 
lutely to  read  Bryce^s  ^^  American  Commonwealth," 
or  Miss  Bird's  account  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  or 
anybody's  travels  in  the  Orient,  upon  all  of  which 
Miss  Halifax  had  painstakingly  fixed  her  attention ; 
but  one  afternoon  she  ordered  a  blue  serge  travelling- 
dress  and  refused  one  or  two  literary  engagements 
for  the  present,  and  the  next  day  wrote  to  Lady 
Halifax  that  she  had  decided  to  go.  Her  father  re- 
ceived her  decision  with  more  relief  than  he  meant 
to  show,  and  Janet  had  a  bitter  half -hour  over  it. 
Then  she  plunged  with  energ}^  into  her  arrange- 
ments, and  Lawrence  Cardiff  made  her  inconsist- 
ently happy  again  with  the  interest  he  took  in  them, 
supplemented  by  an  extremely  dainty  little  travel- 
ling-clock. He  became  suddenly  so  solicitous  for  her 
that  she  sometimes  quivered  before  the  idea  that  he 
guessed  all  the  reasons  that  were  putting  her  to 
flight,  which  gave  her  a  wholly  unnecessary  pang, 
for  nothing  would  have  astonished  Lawrence  Cardiff 
more  than  to  be  confronted,  at  the  moment,  with 
any  passion  that  was  not  his  own. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Kendal,  as  the  door  closed  behind  Elfrida  on  the 
afternoon  of  her  last  sitting,  shutting  liim  in  with 
himself  and  the  portrait  on  the  easel,  and  the  reve- 
lation she  had  made,  did  his  best  to  feel  contrition, 
and  wondered  that  he  was  so  little  successful.  He 
assured  himself  that  he  had  been  a  brute ;  yet  in  an 
uncompromising  review  of  all  that  he  had  ever  said 
or  done  in  connection  with  Elfrida  he  failed  to  sat- 
isfy his  own  indignation  with  himself  by  discover- 
ing any  occasion  upon  which  his  brutality  had  been 
particularly  obvious.  He  remembered  with  invol- 
untary self-justification  how  distinctly  she  had  in- 
sisted upon  camaraderie  between  them,  how  she  had 
spurned  everything  that  savored  of  another  stan- 
dard of  manners  on  his  part,  how  she  had  once 
actually  had  the  curious  taste  to  want  him  to  call 
her  ^'  old  chap,"  and  how  it  had  grated.  He  remem- 
bered her  only  half- veiled  invitation,  her  challenge 
to  him  to  see  as  much  as  he  cared,  and  to  make 
what  he  could  of  her.  He  was  to  blame  for  accept- 
362 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  363 

ing,  but  he  would  have  been  a  conceited  ass  if  he 
had  thought  of  the  danger  of  a  result  like  this.  In 
the  midst  of  his  reflections  an  idea  came  to  him 
about  the  portrait,  and  he  observed,  with  irritation, 
after  giving  it  a  few  touches,  that  the  light  was 
irretrievably  gone  for  the  day. 

Next  morning  he  worked  for  three  hours  at  it 
without  a  pang,  and  in  the  afternoon,  with  relaxed 
nerves  and  a  high  heart,  he  took  his  hat  and  turned 
his  face  toward  Kensington  Square.  The  distance 
was  considerable,  but  he  walked  lightly,  rapidly, 
with  a  conscious  enjoyment  of  that  form  of  relief 
to  his  wrought  nerves,  his  very  limbs  drawing  energy 
from  the  knowledge  of  his  finished  work.  Never 
before  had  he  felt  so  completely  the  divine  sense  Of 
success,  and  though  he  had  worked  at  the  portrait 
with  passionate  concentration  from  the  beginning, 
this  realization  had  come  to  him  only  the  day  before, 
when,  stepping  back  to  look  with  Elfrida,  he  saw 
what  he  had  done.  Troubled  as  the  revelation  was, 
in  it  he  saw  himself  a  master.  He  had  for  once 
escaped,  and  he  felt  that  the  escape  was  a  notable 
one,  from  the  tyranny  of  his  brilliant  technique. 
He  had  subjected  it  to  his  idea,  which  had  grown 
npon  the  canvas  obscure  to  him  under  his  own 
brush  until  that  final  moment,  and  he  recognized 
with  astonishment  how  relative  and  incidental  the 


364  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

truth  of  the  treatment  seemed  in  comparison  with 
the  truth  of  the  idea. 

With  the  modern  scornful  word  for  the  literary- 
value  of  paintings  on  his  lips,  Kendal  was  forced  to 
admit  that  in  this  his  consummate  picture,  as  he 
very  truly  thought  it,  the  chief  significance  lay  else- 
where than  in  the  brushing  and  the  color — they 
were  only  its  dramatic  exponents — and  the  knowl- 
edge of  this  brought  him  a  new  and  glorious  sense 
of  control.  It  had  already  carried  him  further  in 
power,  this  portrait,  it  would  carry  him  further  in 
place,  than  anything  he  had  yet  done;  and  the 
thought  gave  a  sparkle  to  the  delicious  ineffable 
content  that  bathed  his  soul.  He  felt  that  the 
direction  of  his  walk  intensified  his  eager  physical 
joy  in  it.  He  was  going  to  Janet  with  his  success, 
as  he  had  always  gone  to  her.  As  soon  as  the  ab- 
sorbing vision  of  his  work  had  admitted  another 
perception,  it  was  Janet's  sympathy,  Janet's  applause, 
that  had  mingled  itself  with  his  certain  reward. 
He  could  not  say  that  it  had  inspired  him  in  the 
least,  but  it  formed  a  very  essential  part  of  his 
triumph.  He  could  wish  her  more  exacting,  but 
this  time  he  had  done  something  that  should  make 
her  less  easy  to  satisfy  in  the  future.  Unconsciously 
he  hastened  his  steps  through  the  gardens,  switching 
off  a  daisy  head  now  and  then  with  his  stick  as  he 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  365 

went,  and  pausing  only  once,  when  he^^fonnd  him.- 
seK,  to  his  utter  astonishment,  asking  a  purely  in- 
cidental errand  boy  if  he  wanted  sixpence. 

Janet,  in  the  drawing-room,  received  him  with 
hardly  a  quickening  of  pulse.  It  was  so  nearly  over 
now  5  she  seemed  to  have  packed  up  a  good  part  of 
her  tiresome  heart-ache  with  the  warm  things  Lady 
Halifax  had  dictated  for  the  Atlantic.  She  had  a 
vague  expectation  that  it  would  reappear,  but  not 
until  she  unlocked  the  box,  in  mid-ocean,  where  it 
wouldn't  matter  so  much.  She  knew  that  it  was 
only  reasonable  and  probable  that  she  should  see 
him  again  before  they  left  for  Liverpool.  She  had 
been  expecting  this  visit,  and  she  meant  to  be  un- 
flinching with  herself  when  she  exchanged  farewells 
with  him.  She  meant  to  make  herself  believe  that 
the  occasion  was  quite  an  ordinary  one — also  until 
afterward,  when  her  feeling  about  it  would  be  of 
less  consequence. 

"  Well,"  she  asked  directly,  with  a  failing  heart  as 
she  saw  his  face,  "  what  is  your  good  news  ?  '^ 

Kendal  laughed  aloud ;  it  was  delightful  to  be  an- 
ticipated. ^^  So  I  am  unconsciously  advertising  it,'' 
he  said.     "  Guess !  " 

His  tone  had  the  vaunting  glory  of  a  lover's — a 

lover  new  to  his  lordship,  witli  his  pri\qleges  still 

sweet  upon  his  lips.     Janet  felt  a  little  cold  con- 
24 


366  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

traction  about  her  heart,  and  sank  quickly  into  the 
nearest  arm-chair.  ^'How  can  I  guess,"  she  said, 
looking  beyond  him  at  the  wall,  which  she  did  not 
see,  '^without  anything  to  go  upon?  Give  me  a 
hint." 

Kendal  laughed  again.  "It's  very  simple,  and 
you  know  something  about  it  already." 

Then  she  was  not  mistaken — there  was  no  chance 
of  it.  She  tried  to  look  at  him  with  smiling,  sympa- 
thetic intelligence,  while  her  whole  being  quivered 
in  anticipation  of  the  blow  that  was  coming.  "  Does 
it — does  it  concern  another  person  ? "  she  faltered. 

Kendal  looked  grave,  and  suffered  an  instant's 
compunction.  "  It  does — it  does  indeed,"  he  assured 
her.  "  It  concerns  Miss  Elfrida  Bell  very  much,  in 
a  way.  Ah ! ''  he  went  on  impatiently,  as  she  still 
sat  silent,  "  why  are  you  so  unnaturally  dull,  Janet  ? 
Pve  finished  that  young  woman's  portrait,  and  it  is 
more — satisfactory — ^than  I  ever  in  my  life  dared 
hope  that  any  picture  of  mine  would  be." 

"IsthataU?" 

The  words  escaped  her  in  a  quick  breath  of  relief. 
Her  face  was  crimson,  and  the  room  seemed  to  swim. 

"J.Z? .' "  she  heard  Kendal  say  reproachfully.  "  Wait 
until  you  see  it ! "  He  experienced  a  shade  of  dejec- 
tion, and  there  was  an  instant's  silence  between  them, 
during  which  it  seemed  to  Janet  that  the  world  was 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  367 

made  over  again.  ^'  That  young  woman !  "  She  dis- 
loyally extracted  the  last  suggestion  of  indifference 
out  of  the  phrase,  and  found  it  the  sweetest  she  had 
heard  for  months.  But  her  brain  whirled  with  the 
effort  to  decide  what  it  could  possibly  mean. 

"  I  hope  you  have  made  it  as  beautiful  as  Elfrida 
is,"  she  cried,  with  sharp  self -reproof.  ^^It  must 
have  been  difficult  to  do  that." 

"  I  have  made  it — what  she  is,  I  think,"  he  an- 
swered, again  with  that  sudden  gravity.  "It  is  so 
like  my  conception  of  her  which  I  have  never  felt 
permitted  to  explain  to  you,  that  I  feel  as  if  I  had 
stolen  a  march  upon  her.  You  must  see  it.  When 
will  you  come  ?  It  goes  in  the  day  after  to-morrow, 
but  I  can't  wait  for  your  opinion  till  it's  hung." 

"  I  like  your  calm  reliance  upon  the  Committee," 
Janet  laughed.     "  Suppose — " 

"  I  won't.  It  will  go  on  the  line,"  Kendal  returned 
confidently.  "I  did  nothing  last  year  that  I  will 
permit  to  be  compared  with  it.  Will  you  come  to- 
morrow ? " 

"  Impossible ;  I  haven't  two  consecutive  minutes 
to-morrow.     We  sail,  you  know,  on  Thursday." 

Kendal  looked  at  her  blankly.  "  You  sail  f  On 
Thursday?" 

"  I  am  going  to  America,  Lady  Halifax  and  I. 
And  Elizabeth,  of  course.     We  arfe  to  be  away  a 


368  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

year.  Lady  Halifax  is  buying  tickets,  I  am  col- 
lecting light  literature,  and  Elizabeth  is  in  pursuit 
of  facts.  Oh,  we  are  deep  in  preparation.  I  thought 
you  knew.^' 

^'  How  could  I  possibly  know  ?  '^ 

"  Elf rida  didn't  tell  you,  then !  " 

"Did  she  know?" 

"  Oh  yes,  ten  days  ago.'' 

"  Odd  that  she  didn't  mention  it." 

Janet  told  herself  that  it  was  odd,  but  found 
with  some  sui-prise  that  it  was  not  more  than  odd. 
There  had  been  a  time  when  the  discovery  that  she 
and  her  affairs  were  of  so  little  consequence  to  her 
friend  would  have  given  her  a  wondering  pang ;  but 
that  time  seemed  to  have  passed.  She  talked  lightly 
on  about  her  journey  j  her  voice  and  her  thoughts 
had  suddenly  been  freed.  She  dilated  upon  the 
pleasures  she  anticipated  as  if  they  had  been  real, 
skimming  over  the  long  spaces  of  his  silence,  and 
gathering  gaiety  as  he  grew  more  and  more  sombre. 
When  he  rose  to  go  their  moods  had  changed :  the 
brightness  and  the  flush  were  hers,  and  his  face 
spoke  only  of  a  puzzled  dejection,  an  anxious  uncer- 
tainty. 

"  So  it  is  good-by,"  he  said,  as  she  gave  him  her 
hand,  "  for  a  year !  " 

Something  in  his  voice  made  her  look  up  sud- 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  369 

denly,  with  such  an  unconscious  tenderness  in  her 
eyes  as  he  had  never  seen  in  any  other  woman^s. 
She  dropped  them  before  he  could  be  quite  certain 
he  recognized  it,  though  his  heart  was  beating  in  a 
way  which  told  Mm  there  had  been  no  mistake. 

"Lady  Halifax  means  it  to  be  a  year,"  she  an- 
swered— and  surely,  since  it  was  to  be  a  year,  he 
might  keep  her  hand  an  instant  longer. 

The  full  knowledge  of  what  this  woman  was  to 
him  seemed  to  descend  upon  John  Kendal  then,  and 
he  stood  silent  under  it,  pale  and  grave-eyed,  baring 
his  heart  to  the  rush  of  the  fii'st  serious  emotion 
life  had  brought  him,  filled  with  a  single  conscious 
desire — that  she  should  show  him  that  sweetness  in 
her  eyes  again.  But  she  looked  wilfully  down,  and 
he  could  only  come  closer  to  her,  with  a  sudden 
muteness  upon  his  ready  lips,  and  a  strange  new- 
born fear  wresthng  for  possession  of  him.  For  in 
that  moment  Janet,  hitherto  so  simple,  so  approach- 
able, as  it  were  so  available,  had  become  remote, 
difficult,  incomprehensible.  Kendal  invested  her 
with  the  change  in  himself,  and  quivered  in  un- 
certainty as  to  what  it  might  do  with  her.  He 
seemed  to  have  nothing  to  trust  to  but  that  one 
glance  for  knowledge  of  the  girl  his  love  had  newly 
exalted;  and  still  she  stood  before  him  looking 
down.    He  took  two  or  three  vague  steps  into  the 


370  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

middle  of  the  room,  drawing  her  with  him.  In 
their  nearness  to  each  other  the  silence  between 
them  held  them  intoxicatingly,  and  he  had  her  in 
his  arms  before  he  found  occasion  to  say,  between 
his  lingering  kisses  upon  her  hair,  ^^You  can't  go, 
Janet.    You  must  stay — and  marry  me." 

*  «  «  *  # 

"I  don't  know,"  wrote  Lawrence  Cardiff  in  a 
postscript  to  a  note  to  Miss  Bell  that  evening,  "  that 
Janet  will  thank  me  for  forestalling  her  with  such 
all-important  news,  but  I  can't  resist  the  pleasure 
of  telling  you  that  she  and  Kendal  got  themselves 
engaged,  without  so  much  as  a  '  by  your  leave '  to  me, 
this  afternoon.  The  young  man  shamelessly  stayed 
to  dinner,  and  I  am  informed  that  they  mean  to  be 
married  in  June.  Kendal  is  full  of  your  portrait ; 
we  are  to  see  it  to-morrow.  I  hope  he  has  arranged 
that  we  shall  have  the  advantage  of  comparing  it 
with  the  original." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

"  Miss  Cardiff's  in  the  lib'ry,  sir/'  said  the  house- 
maid, opening  the  door  for  Kendal  next  morning 
with  a  smile  which  he  did  not  find  too  broadly 
sympathetic.  He  went  up  the  stairs  two  steps  at  a 
time,  whistling  like  a  schoolboy. 

"Lady  Halifax  says,"  he  announced,  taking  im- 
mediate possession  of  Janet  where  she  stood,  and 
drawing  her  to  a  seat  beside  him  on  the  lounge, 
"  that  the  least  we  can  do  by  way  of  reparation  is 
to  an^ange  our  wedding-trip  in  their  society.  She 
declares  she  will  wait  any  reasonable  time ;  but  I 
assured  her  delicately  that  her  idea  of  compensation 
was  a  little  exaggerated." 

Janet  looked  at  him  with  an  absent  smile.  "  Yes, 
I  think  so,"  she  said,  but  her  eyes  were  preoccupied, 
and  the  lover  in  him  resented  it. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  he  asked.  "  What  has  happened, 
dear?" 

She  looked  down  at  an  open  letter  in  her  hand, 
and  for  a  moment  said  nothing.  "I  don't  know 
371 


372  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

whether  I  ought  to  tell  youj  but  it  would  be  a 
relief.'^ 

"Can  there  be  anything  yon  ought  not  to  tell 
me  ?  "  he  insisted  tenderly. 

"Perhaps,  on  the  other  hand,  I  ought/^  she  said 
reflectively.  "  It  may  help  you  to  a  proper  defini- 
tion of  my  character,  and  then — you  may  think  less 
of  me.     Yes,  I  think  I  ought.'^ 

"Darling,  for  Heaven^s  sake  don^t  talk  non- 
sense ! " 

"  I  had  a  letter — this  letter — a  little  while  ago, 
from  EKrida  Bell."  She  held  it  out  to  him.  "Eead 
it." 

Kendal  hesitated  and  scanned  her  face.  She  was 
smiling  now ;  she  had  the  look  of  half-amused  dis- 
may that  might  greet  an  ineffectual  blow.  He  took 
the  letter. 

"If  it  is  from  Miss  Bell,"  he  said  at  a  sugges- 
tion from  his  conscience,  "  I  fancy,  for  some  reason, 
it  is  not  pleasant." 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "  it  is  not  pleasant." 

He  unfolded  the  letter,  recognizing  the  character- 
istic broad  margins  and  the  repressed  rounded 
perpendicular  hand  with  its  supreme  effort  after 
significance,  and  his  thought  reflected  a  tinge  of 
his  old  amused  curiosity.  It  was  only  a  reflection, 
and  yet  it  distinctly  embodied  the  idea  that  he 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  373 

might  be  on  the  brink  of  a  further  discoveiy.  He 
glanced  at  Janet  again :  her  hands  were  clasped  in 
her  lap,  and  she  was  looking  straight  before  her 
with  smiHngly  grave  lips  and  lowered  lids,  which 
nevertheless  gave  him  a  glimpse  of  retrospection. 
He  felt  the  beginnings  of  indignation,  yet  he  looked 
back  at  the  letter  acquisitively  j  its  interest  was 
intrinsic. 

"  I  feel  that  I  can  no  longer  hold  myself  in  honor," 
he  read,  ^4f  I  refrain  further  from  defining  the 
personal  situation  between  us  as  it  appears  to  me. 
That  I  have  let  nearly  three  weeks  go  by  without 
doing  it  you  may  put  down  to  my  weakness  and 
selfishness,  to  your  own  charm,  to  what  you  will ;  but 
I  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  not  withhold  the  blame 
that  is  due  me  in  the  matter,  for  I  have  wronged 
you,  as  well  as  myself,  in  keeping  silence. 

"Look,  it  is  all  here  in  a  nutshell.  Nothing  is 
changed.  I  have  tried  to  believe  otherwise,  but  the 
truth  is  stronger  than  my  will.  My  opinion  of  you 
is  a  naked,  uncompromising  fact.  I  cannot  drape  it 
or  adorn  it,  or  even  throw  around  it  a  mist  of  char- 
ity. It  is  unalterably  there,  and  in  any  future  inter- 
course with  you,  such  intercourse  as  we  have  had  in 
the  past,  I  should  only  dash  myself  forever  against 
it.     I  do  not  clearly  see  upon  what  level  you  ac- 


374  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

cepted  me  in  the  beginning,  but  I  am  absolutely  firm 
in  my  belief  that  it  was  not  such  as  I  would  have 
tolerated  if  I  had  known.  To-day  at  all  events  I  am 
confronted  with  the  proof  that  I  have  not  had  youi* 
confidence — that  you  have  not  thought  it  worth 
w4iile  to  be  single-minded  in  your  relation-  to  me. 
From  a  personal  point  of  view  there  is  more  that  I 
might  say,  but  perhaps  that  is  damning  enough,  and 
I  have  no  desire  to  be  abusive.  It  is  on  my  con- 
science to  add,  moreover,  that  I  find  you  a  sophist, 
and  your  sophistry  a  little  vulgar.  I  find  you  com- 
promising with  your  ambitions,  which  in  themselves 
are  not  above  reproach  from  any  point  of  view.  I 
find  you  adulterating  what  ought  to  be  the  pure 
stream  of  ideahty  with  muddy  considerations  of 
what  the  people  are  pleased  to  call  the  moralities, 
and  with  the  feebler  contamination  of  the  conven- 
tionalities— " 

"I  couldn't  smoke  with  her,"  commented  Janet, 
reading  over  his  shoulder.  ^'It  wasn^t  that  I  ob- 
jected in  the  least,  but  it  made  me  so  very — uncom- 
fortable, that  I  would  never  try  a  second  time." 

Kendal's  smile  deepened,  and  he  read  on  without 
answering,  except  by  pressing  her  finger-tips  against 
his  lips. 

"  I  should  be  sorry  to  deny  your  great  cleverness 
and  your  pretensions  to  a  certain  sort  of  artistic 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  375 

interpretation.  But  to  me  the  artist  bourgeois  is  an 
outsider,  who  must  remain  outside.  He  has  nothing 
to  gain  by  fellowship  with  me,  and  I — pardon  me — 
have  much  to  lose. 

"  So,  if  you  please,  we  will  go  our  separate  ways, 
and  doubtless  will  represent,  each  to  the  other,  an 
experiment  that  has  failed.  You  will  believe  me 
when  I  say  that  I  am  intensely  sorry.  And  perhaps 
you  will  accept,  as  sincerely  as  I  offer  it,  my  wish 
that  the  future  may  bring  you  success  even  more 
brilliant  than  you  have  already  attained."  Here  a 
line  had  been  carefully  scratched  out.  ^^What  I 
have  written  I  have  written  under  compulsion.  I 
am  sure  you  will  understand  that. 
^^  Believe  me, 

"  Yours  sincerely, 

"Elfrida  Bell. 

'^  P.  S. — I  had  a  dream  once  of  what  I  fancied  our 
friendship  might  be.  It  is  a  long  time  ago,  and  the 
days  between  have  faded  all  the  color  and  sweet- 
ness out  of  my  dream — still,  I  remember  that  it  was 
beautiful.  For  the  sake  of  that  vain  imagining,  and 
because  it  was  beautiful,  I  will  send  you,  if  you  will 
allow  me,  a  photograph  of  a  painting  which  I  like, 
which  represents  art  as  I  have  learned  to  kneel  to 
it." 


376  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

Kendal  read  this  communication  through  with  a 
look  of  keen  amusement  until  he  came  to  the  post- 
script. Then  he  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed 
outright.  Janet's  face  had  changed;  she  tried  to 
smile  in  concert,  but  the  effort  was  rather  piteous. 
"Oh,  Jack,"  she  said,  "please  take  it  seriously." 
But  he  laughed  on,  irrepressibly. 

She  tried  to  cover  his  lips.  "  DonH  shout  so !  " 
she  begged,  as  if  there  were  illness  in  the  house  or 
a  funeral  next  door,  and  he  saw  something  in  her 
face  which  stopped  him. 

"  My  darling,  it  can't  hurt — it  doesn't,  does  it  ? " 

"  I'd  like  to  say  no,  but  it  does,  a  little.  Not  so 
much  as  it  would  have  done  a  while  ago." 

"Are  you  going  to  accept  Miss  Bell's  souvenir  of 
her  shattered  ideal?  That's  the  best  thing  in  the 
letter — that's  really  supreme ! "  and  Kendal,  still 
broadly  mirthful,  stretched  out  his  hand  to  take  it 
again ;  but  Janet  drew  it  back. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  of  course  not ;  that  was  silly  of 
her.  But  a  good  deal  of  the  rest  is  true,  I'm  afraid, 
Jack." 

"  It's  damnably  impudent,"  he  cried,  with  sudden 
anger.  "  I  suppose  she  believes  it  herself,  and  that's 
the  measure  of  its  truth.  How  dare  she  dogmatize 
to  you  about  the  art  of  your  work !     She  to  you ! " 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  that  I  care  about.    It  doesn't  matter 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY.  377 

to  me  how  little  she  thinks  of  my  aims  and  my 
methods.  I^m  quite  content  to  do  my  work  with 
what  artistic  conception  IVe  got  without  analyzing 
its  quality — Pm  thankful  enough  to  have  any.  Be- 
sides, Pm  not  sure  about  the  finality  of  her  opin- 
ion— " 

"  You  needn't  be ! "  Kendal  interrupted,  with 
scorn. 

"  But  what  hurts — like  a  knife — is  that  part  about 
my  insincerity.  I  haven^t  been  honest  with  her — I 
haven^t!  From  the  very  beginning  Pve  criticised 
her  privately.  IVe  felt  all  sorts  of  reserves  and 
qualifications  about  her,  and  concealed  them — for 
the  sake  of — of  I  don't  know  what^ — the  pleasure  I 
had  in  knowing  her,  I  suppose." 

^'  It  seems  to  me  pretty  clear,  from  this  precious 
communication,  that  she  was  quietly  reciprocating," 
Kendal  said  bluntly. 

"That  doesn't  clear  me  in  the  least.  Besides, 
when  she  had  made  up  her  mind  she  had  the  cour- 
age to  tell  me  what  she  thought;  there  was  some 
principle  in  that.  I — I  admire  her  for  doing  it,  but 
I  couldn't,  myself." 

"  Thank  the  Lord,  no.  And  I  wouldn't  be  too 
sure,  if  I  were  j^ou,  darling,  about  the  unmixed  hero- 
ism that  dictates  her  letter.  I  dare  say  she  fancied 
it  was  that,  but — ^" 


378  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

Janet^s  head  leaped  up  from  his  shoulder.  "  Now 
you  are  unjust  to  her/'  she  cried.  "  You  don't  know 
EKrida,  Jack.  If  you  think  her  capable  of  assum- 
ing a  motive — " 

^^  Well,  do  you  know  what  I  think?"  said  Kendal, 
with  an  iiTelevant  smile,  glancing  at  the  letter  in  her 
hand.     "  I  think  she  has  kept  a  copy." 

Janet  looked  at  him  with  reproachful  eyes,  which 
nevertheless  had  the  relief  of  amusement  in  them. 
"  Don't  you  ? "  he  insisted. 

^'  I — dare  say." 

"And  she  thoroughly  enjoyed  writing  as  she  did. 
The  phrases  read  as  if  she  had  rolled  them  under 
her  tongue.  It  was  a  coupy  don't  you  see  ? — and  the 
making  of  a  coup,  of  any  kind,  at  any  expense,  is 
the  most  refined  joy  which  life  affords  that  young 
woman." 

"  There's  sincerity  in  every  hue." 

"  Oh,  she  means  what  she  says.  But  she  found 
an  exquisite  gratification  in  saying  it  which  you  can- 
not comprehend,  dear.  This  letter  is  a  flower  of 
her  egotism,  as  it  were — she  regards  it  with  natural 
ecstasy,  as  an  achievement." 

Janet  shook  her  head.  "  Oh  no,  no  !  "  she  cried 
miserably.  "You  can't  realize  the — the  sort  of 
thing  there  was  between  us,  dear,  and  how  it  should 
have  been  sacred  to  me  beyond  all  tampering  and 


A  DAUGHTER   OP   TO-DAY.  379 

cavilling,  or  it  should  not  have  been  at  all.  It  isn^t 
that  I  didn^t  know  all  the  time  that  I  was  disloyal 
to  her,  while  she  thought  I  was  sincerely  her  friend. 
I  did !  And  now  she  has  found  me  out,  and  it  serves 
me  perfectly  right — perfectl}\" 

Kendal  reflected  for  a  moment,  and  then  he 
brought  comfort  to  her  from  his  last  resource. 

"  Of  course  the  intimacy  between  two  gii'ls  is  a 
wholly  different  thing,  and  I  don't  know  whether 
the  relation  between  Miss  BeU.  and  myself  affords 
any  parallel  to  it — '' 

"Oh,  Jack!     And  I  thought— " 

"  What  did  you  think,  dearest  ?  " 

"  I  thought,"  said  Janet,  in  a  voice  considerably 
muffled  by  contact  with  his  tweed  coat  collar,  '^that 
you  were  perfectly  madly  in  love  with  her." 

"  Heavens  !  "  Kendal  cried,  as  if  the  contingency 
had  been  physically  impossible.  "It  is  a  man's 
privilege  to  fall  in  love  with  a  woman,  darling — not 
with  an  incarnate  idea." 

"  It's  a  very  beautiful  idea." 

"  I'm  not  sure  of  that — it  looks  well  from  the  out- 
side. But  it  is  quite  incapable  of  any  growth  or 
much  change,"  Kendal  went  on  musingly,  "and  in 
the  end — Lord,  how  a  man  would  be  bored  !  " 

"  You  are  incapable  of  being  fair  to  her,"  came 
from  the  coat  collar. 


380  A  DAUGHTER  OF  TO-DAY. 

"Perhaps.  I  have  something  else  to  think  of — 
since  yesterday.     Janet,  look  up  !  '^ 

She  looked  up,  and  for  a  little  space  Elfrida  Bell 
found  oblivion  as  complete  as  she  could  have  de- 
sired between  them.     Then — 

"  You  were  telling  me — "  Janet  said. 

"Yes.  Yoilr  Elfrida  and  I  had  a  sort  of  friend- 
ship too — it  began,  as  you  know,  in  Paris.  And  I 
was  quite  aware  that  one  does  not  have  an  ordinary 
friendship  with  her — it  accedes  and  it  exacts  more 
than  the  common  relation.  And  IVe  sometimes 
made  myself  uncomfortable  with  the  idea  that  she 
gave  me  credit  for  a  more  faultless  conception  of 
her  than  I  possessed;  for  the  honest,  brutal  truth 
is,  I^m  afraid,  that  Pve  only  been  working  her  out. 
When  the  portrait  was  finished  I  found  that  some- 
how I  had  succeeded.  She  saw  it,  too,  and  so  I 
fancy  my  false  position  has  righted  itself.  So  I 
haven't  been  sincere  to  her  either,  Janet.  But  my 
conscience  seems  fairly  callous  about  it.  I  can^t 
help  reflecting  that  we  are  to  other  people  pretty 
much  what  they  deserve  that  we  shall  be.  We  can't 
control  our  own  respect.'' 

"  I've  lost  hers,"  Janet  repeated,  with  depression, 
and  Kendal  gave  an  impatient  groan. 

"  I  don't  think  j^ou'll  miss  it,"  he  said. 

"And,  Jack,  haven't  you  any — compunctions  about 
exhibiting  that  portrait?" 


A   DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  381 

"  Absolutely  none/'  He  looked  at  her  with  candid 
eyes.  ^^  Of  course  if  she  wished  me  to  I  would  de- 
stroy it.  I  respect  her  property  in  it  so  far  as  that. 
But  so  long  as  she  accepts  it  as  the  significant  truth 
it  is^  I  am  entirely  incapable  of  regretting  it.  I  have 
painted  her,  with  her  permission,  as  I  saw  her,  as 
she  is.  If  I  had  given  her  a  squint  or  a  dimple,  I 
could  accuse  myself ;  but  I  have  not  wronged  her  or 
gratified  myself  by  one  touch  of  misrepresenta- 
tion." 

"  I  am  to  see  it  this  afternoon,"  said  Janet.  Un- 
consciously she  was  looking  forward  to  finding  some 
measm^e  of  justification  for  herself  in  the  portrait ; 
why,  it  would  be  dif&cult  to  say. 

"Yes;  I  put  it  into  its  frame  with  my  own  hands 
yesterday.  I  don't  know  when  anything  has  given 
me  so  much  pleasure.  And  so  far  as  Miss  Bell  is 
concerned,"  he  went  on,  "it  is  an  unpleasant  thing 
to  say,  but  one's  acquaintance  with  her  seems  more 
and  more  to  resolve  itself  into  an  opportunity  for 
observation,  and  to  be  without  significance  other 
than  that.  I  tell  you  frankly  I  began  to  see  that 
when  I  found  I  shared  what  she  called  her  friend- 
ship with  Golig-htly  Ticke.  And  I  think,  dear,  with 
people  like  you  and  me,  any  more  serious  feeling 
toward  her  is  impossible." 

"  Doesn't  it  distress  you  to  think  that  she  believes 

you  incapable  of  speaking  of  her  like  this  1 " 
25 


382  A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY. 

"I  think/'  said  Kendal  slowly,  "that  she  knows 
how  I  would  be  likely  to  speak  of  her." 

"Well/'  Janet  returned^  "Pm  glad  you  haven't 
reason  to  suffer  about  her  as  I  do.  And  I  don't 
know  at  all  how  to  answer  her  letter." 

"I'll  tell  you/'  Kendal  replied.  He  jumped  up 
and  brought  her  a  pen  and  a  sheet  of  paper  and  a 
blotting-pad,  and  sat  down  again  beside  her,  holding 
the  ink  bottle.     "  Write  '  My  dear  Miss  BelL' " 

"  But  she  began  her  letter  without  any  formality." 

"  Never  mind  -,  that's  a  cheapness  that  you  needn't 
imitate,  even  for  the  sake  of  politeness.  Write  '  My 
dear  Miss  Bell.'" 

Janet  wrote  it. 

" ^I  am  sorry  to  find/"  Kendal  dictated  slowly,  a 
few  words  at  a  time,  "  ^  that  the  flaws  in  my  regard 
for  you  are  sufficiently  considerable — to  attract  your 
attention  as  strongly  as  your  letter  indicates.  The 
right  of  judgment  in  so  personal  a  matter — is  in- 
disputably yours,  however — and  I  write  to  acknowl- 
edge, not  to  question  it.' " 

"  Dear,  that  isn't  as  I  feel." 

"  It's  as  you  will  feel,"  Kendal  replied  ruthlessly. 
"  Now  add :  ^  I  have  to  acknowledge  *he  very  candid 
expression  of  yom-  opinion  of  myself — ^which  does 
not  lose  in  interest — by  the  somewhat  exaggerated 
idea  of  its  value  which  appears  to  have  dictated  it, 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  383 

— and  to  thank  you  for  your  extremely  kind  offer  to 
send  me  a  picture.  I  am  afraid,  however — even  in 
view  of  the  idyllic  considerations  you  mention — I 
cannot  allow  myself  to  take  advantage  of  that — ^ 

^^  On  the  whole  I  wouldn't  allude  to  the  shattered 
ideal—" 

"  Oh  no,  dear.     Go  on." 

^'  Or  the  fact  that  you  probably  wouldn't  be  able 
to  hang  it  up/'  he  added  grimly.  ^'  Now  write  ^  You 
may  be  glad  to  know  that  the  episode  in  my  life — 
which  your  letter  terminates — appears  to  me  to  be 
of  less  importance  than  you  perhaps  imagine  it — 
notwithstanding  a  certain  soreness  over  its  close.' " 

^at  doesn't,  Jack." 

^^  It  will.  I  wouldn't  say  anything  more,  if  I  were 
you  5  just  '  yours  very  truly,  Janet  Cardiff.' " 

She  wrote  as  he  dictated,  and  then  read  the  letter 
slowly  over  from  the  beginning.  ^'  It  sounds  very 
hard,  dear,"  she  said,  lifting  eyes  to  his  which  he  saw 
were  fuU  of  tears,  ^'  and  as  if  I  didn't  care." 

^^  My  darling,"  he  said,  taking  her  into  his  arms, 
"I  hope  you  don't — I  hope  you  won't  care,  after 
to-morrow.  And  now,  don't  you  think  we've  had 
enough  of  Miss  Elf rida  Bell  for  the  present  ? " 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

At  three  o'clock,  an  hour  before  he  expected  the 
Cardiffs,  John  Kendal  ran  up  the  stairs  to  his  studio. 
The  door  stood  ajar,  and  with  a  jealous  sense  of  his 
possession  within,  he  reproached  himself  for  his 
carelessness  in  leaving  it  so.  He  had  placed  the 
portrait  the  day  before  where  all  the  Hght  in  the 
room  fell  upon  it,  and  his  first  hasty  impression  of 
the  place  assured  him  that  it  stood  there  stiU. 
When  he  looked  directly  at  it  he  instinctively  shut 
the  door,  made  a  step  or  two  forward,  closed  his 
eyes  and  so  stood  for  a  moment,  with  his  hands  be- 
fore them.  Then,  with  a  groan,  "Damnation!'^  he 
opened  them  again  and  faced  the  fact.  The  portrait 
was  literally  in  rags.  They  hung  from  the  top  of 
the  frame  and  swung  over  the  bottom  of  it.  Hardly 
enough  of  the  canvas  remained  unriddled  to  show 
that  it  had  represented  anything  human.  Its  de- 
struction was  absolute — fiendish,  it  seemed  to  Kendal. 

He  dropped  into  a  chair  and  stared  with  his  knee 
locked  in  his  hands. 

^^  Damnation !  "  he  repeated,  with  a  white  face. 
384 


A   DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  385 

^^  I'll  never  approach  it  again  j  "  and  then  he  added 
grimly,  still  speaking  aloud,  ^^  Janet  will  say  I  de- 
served it." 

He  had  not  an  instant's  doubt  of  the  author  of 
the  destruction,  and  he  remembered  with  a  flash  in 
connection  with  it  the  little  silver-handled  Algerian 
dagger  that  pinned  one  of  Nadie  Palicsky's  studies 
against  the  wall  of  Elfrida's  room.  It  was  not  till 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  afterward  that  he  thought 
it  worth  while  to  pick  up  the  note  that  lay  on  the 
table  addressed  to  him,  and  then  he  opened  it  with 
a  nauseated  sense  of  her  unnecessary  insistence. 

^'I  have  come  here  this  morning,"  Elfrida  had 
written,  "  determined  to  either  kill  myself  or  It.  It 
is  impossible,  I  find,  notwithstanding  all  that  I  said, 
that  both  should  continue  to  exist.  I  cannot  ex- 
plain further,  you  must  not  ask  it  of  me.  You  may 
not  believe  me  when  I  tell  you  that  I  struggled 
hard  to  let  it  be  myself.  I  had  such  a  hideous 
doubt  as  to  which  had  the  best  right  to  live.  But 
I  failed  there — death  is  too  ghastly.  So  I  did  what 
you  see.  In  doing  it  I  think  I  committed  the  un- 
forgivable sin — not  against  you,  but  against  art.  It 
may  be  some  satisfaction  to  you  to  know  that  I  shall 
never  wholly  respect  myself  again  in  consequence." 
A  word  or  two  scratched  out,  and  then :  '^  Understand 


386  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

that  I  bear  no  malice  toward  you,  have  no  blame 
for  you,  only  honor.  You  acted  under  the  very 
highest  obligation — you  could  not  have  done  other- 
wise. ****='«'  And  I  am  giad  to  think  that  I  do 
not  destroy  with  your  work  the  joy  you  had  in 

j^  #     #     *   7? 

Kendal  noted  the  consideration  of  this  final  state- 
ment with  a  cynical  laugh,  and  counted  the  asterisks. 
Why  the  devil  hadn't  he  locked  the  door  ?  His  con- 
fidence in  her  had  been  too  ludicrous.  He  read  the 
note  half  through  once  again,  and  then  with  uncon- 
trollable impatience  tore  it  into  shreds.  To  have 
done  it  at  all  was  hideous,  but  to  try  and  impress 
herself  in  doing  it  was  disgTisting.  He  reflected, 
with  a  smile  of  incredulous  contempt,  upon  what 
she  had  said  about  killing  herseK,  and  wondered,  in 
his  anger,  how  she  could  be  so  blind  to  her  otvti  dis- 
ingenuousness.  Five  asterisks — she  had  made  them 
carefully — and  then  the  preposterousness  about  what 
she  had  destroyed  and  what  she  hadn't  destroyed; 
and  then  more  asterisks.  Wliat  had  she  thought 
they  could  possibly  signify — what  could  anything 
she  might  say  possibly  signify  ? 

In  a  savage  rudimentary  way  he  went  over  the 
ethical  aspect  of  the  affair,  coming  to  no  ver}^  clear 
conclusion.      He  would  have  destroyed  the  thing 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   TO-DAY.  387 

himself  if  slie  had  asked  him,  but  she  should  have 
asked  him.  And  even  in  his  engrossing  indignation 
he  could  experience  a  kind  of  spiritual  blush  as  he 
recognized  how  safe  his  concession  was  behind  the 
improbability  of  its  condition.  Fina%  he  wrote  a 
line  to  Janet,  informing  her  that  the  portrait  had 
sustained  an  injury,  and  postponing  her  and  her 
father's  visit  to  the  studio.  He  would  come  in  the 
morning  to  tell  her  about  it,  he  added,  and  des- 
patched the  missive  by  the  boy  downstairs,  post- 
haste, in  a  cab.  It  would  be  to-morrow,  he  reflected, 
before  he  could  screw  himself  up  to  talking  about 
it,  even  to  Janet.  For  that  day  he  must  be  alone 
with  his  discomfiture. 

*  *  4e  4c  * 

In  the  days  of  his  youth  and  adversity,  long  be- 
fore he  and  the  public  were  upon  speaking  terms,  Mr. 
George  Jasper  had  found  encouragement  of  a  sub- 
stantial sort  with  Messrs.  Pittman,  Pitt  &  Sander- 
son, of  Ludgate  Hill,  which  was  a  well-known  ex- 
planation of  the  fact  that  this  brilliant  author  clung, 
in  the  main,  to  a  rather  old-fashioned  firm  of  pub- 
lishers when  the  dimensions  of  his  reputation  gave 
him  a  proportionate  choice.  It  explained  also  the 
circumstance  that  Mr.  Jasper's  notable  critical  acu- 
men was  very  often  at  the  service  of  his  friend  Mr. 
Pitt — Mr.  Pittman  was  dead,  as  at  least  one  member 


388  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

of  a  London  publishing  firm  is  apt  to  be — in  cases 
wliere  manuscripts  of  any  curiously  distinctive  char- 
acter, from  unknown  authors,  puzzled  his  perception 
of  the  truly  expedient  thing  to  do.  Mr.  Arthur  Rat- 
tray, of  the  Illustrated  Age,  had  personal  access  to 
Mr.  Pitt,  and  had  succeeded  in  confusing  him  very 
nmch  indeed  as  to  the  probable  success  of  a  book  by 
an  impressionistic  young  lady  friend  of  his,  which 
he  called  ^^  An  Adventure  in  Stage-Land,"  and  which 
Mr.  Rattray  declared  to  have  every  element  of  un- 
conventional interest.  Mr.  Pitt  distrusted  uncon- 
ventional interest,  distrusted  impressionistic  litera- 
ture, and  especially  distrusted  books  by  young  lady 
friends.  Rattray,  nevertheless,  showed  a  suspicious 
indifference  to  its  being  accepted,  and  an  irritating 
readiness  to  take  it  somewhere  else,  and  Mr.  Pitt 
knew  Rattray  for  a  sagacious  man.  And  so  it  hap- 
pened that,  returning  late  from  a  dinner  where  he 
had  taken  refuge  from  being  bored  entirely  to  extinc- 
tion in  two  or  three  extremely  indigestible  dishes, 
Mr.  George  Jasper  found  Elfrida's  manuscript  in  a 
neat,  thick,  oblong  paper  parcel,  waiting  for  him  on 
his  dressing-table.  He  felt  himself  particularly 
wide  awake,  and  he  had  a  consciousness  that  the 
evening  had  made  a  very  small  inroad  upon  his 
capacity  for  saying  clever  things.  So  he  went  over 
^'An  Adventure  in  Stage-Land"  at  once,  and  in 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  389 

writing  his  opinion  of  it  to  Mr.  Pitt,  whicli  he  did 
with  some  elaboration,  a  couple  of  hours  later,  he 
had  all  the  relief  of  a  revenge  upon  a  well-meaning 
hostess,  without  the  reproach  of  having  done  her 
the  slightest  harm.  It  is  probable  that  if  Mr.  Jasper 
had  known  that  the  opinion  of  the  iirm^s  '4-eader^' 
was  to  find  its  way  to  the  author,  he  would  have 
expressed  himself  in  terms  of  more  guarded  com- 
monplace, for  we  cannot  believe  that  he  still  cher- 
ished a  suffioiently  lively  resentment  at  having  his 
hand  publicly  kissed  by  a  pretty  girl  to  do  other- 
wise; but  Mr.  Pitt  had  not  thought  it  necessary 
to  tell  him  of  this  condition,  which  Rattray,  at 
Elfrida's  express  desire,  had  exacted.  As  it  hap- 
pened, nobody  can  ever  know  precisely  what  he 
wrote,  except  Mr.  Pitt,  who  has  forgotten,  and  Mr. 
Arthur  Rattray,  who  tries  to  forget ;  for  the  letter, 
the  morning  after  it  had  been  received,  which  was 
the  morning  after  the  portrait  met  its  fate,  lay  in  a 
little  charred  heap  in  the  fireplace  of  Elfrida's  room, 
when  Janet  Cardiff  pushed  the  screen  aside  at  last 
and  went  in. 

Kendal  had  come  as  he  promised,  and  told  her 
everything.  He  had  not  received  quite  the  measure 
of  indignant  sympathy  he  had  expected,  and  Janet 
had  not  laughed  at  the  asterisks.  On  the  other 
hand,  she  had  sent  him  away,  with  unnatural  grav- 


390  A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

ity  of  demeanor,  rather  earlier  than  he  meant  to 
go,  and  without  telling  him  why.  She  thought, 
as  she  directed  the  cabman  to  Essex  Court,  Fleet 
Street,  that  she  would  tell  him  why  afterward  j  and 
all  the  way  there  she  thought  of  the  most  exphcit 
terms  in  which  to  inform  Elf rida  that  her  letter  had 
been  the  product  of  hardness  of  heart,  that  she 
really  felt  quite  differently,  and  had  come  to  tell 
her,  purety  for  honesty's  sake,  how  she  did  feel. 

After  a  moment  of  ineffectual  calling  on  the  other 
side  of  the  screen,  her  voice  failed  her,  and  in  dumb 
terror  that  would  not  be  reasoned  aw^ay  it  seemed 
that  she  saw  the  outlines  of  the  long,  still,  slender 
figure  under  the  bed  di-aperies,  while  she  still  looked 
helplessly  at  a  flock  of  wild  geese  flying  over  Fugi 
Yama.  Buddha  smiled  at  her  from  the  table  with 
a  kind  of  horrid  expectancy,  and  the  litter  of  papers 
round  him,  in  Elfrida's  handwriting,  mixed  their 
familiarity  with  his  mockery.  She  had  only  to 
drag  her  trembling  Hmbs  a  little  further  to  know 
that  the  room  was  pregnant  with  the  presence  of 
death.  Some  white  tuberoses  in  a  vase  seemed  to 
make  it  palpable  with  their  fragrance.  She  ran 
wildly  to  the  window  and  drew  back  the  curtain ; 
the  pale  sunUght  flooding  in  gave  a  little  white  nim- 
bus to  a  silver  ring  upon  the  floor. 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY.  391 

The  fact  may  not  be  without  interest  that  six 
months  afterward  ^'An  Adventure  in  Stage-Land" 
was  published  by  Messrs.  Lash  and  Black,  and  met 
with  a  very  considerable  success.  Mr.  Arthur  Rat- 
tray undertook  its  disposal,  with  the  consent  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Leslie  Bell,  who  insisted,  without  much 
difficulty,  that  he  should  receive  a  percentage  of  the 
profits  for  his  trouble.  Mr.  Rattray  was  also  of 
assistance  to  them  when,  as  soon  as  the  expense 
could  be  managed,  these  two  middle-aged  Amer- 
icans, whose  grief  was  not  less  impressive  because 
of  its  twang,  arrived  in  London  to  arrange  that 
their  daughter's  final  resting-place  should  be  changed 
to  her  native  land.  Mr.  Bell  told  him  in  confidence 
that  while  he  hoped  he  was  entirely  devoid  of  what 
you  may  call  race  prejudice  against  the  English 
people,  it  didn't  seem  as  if  he  could  let  anybody 
belonging  to  him  lie  under  the  British  flag  for  all 
time,  and  found  it  a  comfort  that  Rattray  under- 
stood. Sparta  is  divided  in  its  opinion  whether  the 
imposing  red  granite  monument  they  erected  in 
the  cemetery,  with  plenty  of  space  left  for  the  final 
earthly  record  of  Leslie  and  Margaret  Bell,  is  not 
too  expensive  considering  the  Bells'  means,  and  too 
conspicuous  considering  the  cii'cumstances.  It  has 
hitherto  occurred  to  nobody,  however,  to  doubt  the 


392  A   DAUGHTER   OF   TO-DAY. 

appropriateness  of  the  texts  inscribed  upon  it,  in 
connection  with  three  little  French  words  which 
Elfrida,  in  the  charmingly  apologetic  letter  which 
she  left  for  her  parents,  commanded  to  be  pnt 
there — ^^Pas  femme-artiste.^^  Janet,  who  once  paid  a 
visit  to  the  place,  hopes  in  all  seriousness  that  the 
sleeper  nnderneath  is  not  aware  of  the  combination. 

Miss  Kimpsey  boards  with  the  Bells  now,  and  her 
relation  to  them  has  become  almost  daughterly. 
The  three  are  swayed,  to  the  extent  of  their  several 
capacities,  by  what  one  might  call  a  cult  of  Elfrida 
— ^her  death  has  long  ago  been  explained  by  the 
fact  that  a  grandaunt  of  Mrs.  Bell's  suffered  from 
melancholia. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Kendal's  delightful  circle  of 
friends  say  that  they  live  an  idyllic  life  in  Devon- 
shire. But  even  in  the  height  of  some  domestic 
joy  a  silence  sometimes  falls  between  them  still. 
Then,  I  fancy,  he  is  thinking  of  an  art  that  has 
slipped  away  from  him,  and  she  of  a  loyalty  she 
could  not  hold.  The  only  person  whose  equanimity 
is  entirely  undisturbed  is  Buddha.  In  his  place 
among  the  mournful  Magdalens  of  Mrs.  Bell's  draw- 
ing-room in  Sparta,  Buddha  still  smiles. 

THE    END. 


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